Shooting Star
by chickenwriter
Summary: Clarisse is fearing that if she should lose Joseph, she should surely lose her life. Last Chapter Posted September 4th.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story took me a long time. I actually put some time in researching my idea, so I could attempt to convey this horrible disease in a way that hopefully won't offend anyone. (Forgive me if it does, I'm only a teenager!) I am fortunate to have never been affected by this disease, although my grandma's friend is suffering from dementia. So I don't know how someone would feel in this situation, so I tried really hard to express the emotions correctly.

The song 'Shooting Star'(my favorite!) is the song I was listening to when the idea came to me. I hope you like this angst-like story.

So please read and review, and let me know what I did wrong if you want, I can always use the help! I also realized halfway through writing it that it was very melodramatic/over-dramatic, so bear with me on this one. I've never written a story longer than three (Bad, really bad) chapters, so this may be...well...interesting.

**Shooting Star**

_Summary: The love they felt for each other was immense, unspeakable, and amazing. There was absolutely nothing that could ever get in their way, in sickness or in health._

"_He was the sun burning bright and brittle and _

_She was the moon shining back his light a little_

_He was a shooting star_

_She was softer and more slowly _

_He could not make things possible but _

_She could make them holy_"

_**Harry Chapin - Shooting Star**_

Five years ago today, Clarisse Renaldi married the love of her life. Hence becoming Clarisse Renaldi-Saporta. The ceremony had come as a shock to them both, but they remembered it vividly, as if it were yesterday. Now, here they were, turning circles together on an empty dance floor once again. They held each-other close as the music played softly. The cross between a waltz and a tango, or a wango (as it had been affectionately named), was their favorite dance. It brought them closer, moving to the beat of the music, clasping one hand at their sides, resting the other on her stomach, swaying gently together. The dance made them lock eyes, and study the feelings they felt. The love they felt for each other was immense, unspeakable, and amazing. There was absolutely nothing that could ever get in their way, in sickness or in health.

"Clarisse, my darling, I've forgotten what we call this dance." Joseph broke the passion-filled silence, puzzled at the sudden lapse of his usually sharp memory.

"It's a "wango", darling." The former queen whispered huskily in his ear. She cast her blue eyes downward, her senses completely indulged in the passionate Spanish dance they were sharing.

"Mmmm... yes. How could I forget?" He whispered back as he spun her to face him. Clarisse laid her head on his shoulder, moving closer, thoroughly enjoying the close contact with her husband.

"Joseph?" She said into his shoulder.

"Yes?" Joe replied. He felt her gentle breath on his neck and a tingle ran down his spine.

"How are we going to celebrate this milestone day?" She raised her head and looked into his eyes, conveying a feeling neither could speak aloud.

"Are you suggesting something?" His hand came up to run through her short blonde hair.

"Maybe a little." Joseph kissed the woman in his arms as she blushed a deep shade of red. Five years together and she was still completely mad for this man.

"Alright then." He didn't need much coaxing as he lifted her completely off the ground and started down the hall. She shrieked loudly in surprise.

"Joseph! What are you doing?"

"Carrying you to our room, your majesty." He kissed her softly on the head.

"Joseph, people are going to see us." She giggled softly as they passed a guard struggling to keep his composure at the sight of the former queen being whisked down the hallway in the arms of her husband. "Besides, you are going the wrong way."

"Oh I am, aren't I?" Joseph turned around and headed for their room. He could have sworn it was down the North hallway, and not the South.

Clarisse awoke, the morning creeping upon them, once again in the arms of her former head of security. The man she loved with all her heart. Her husband. She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. She thought of how lucky she was, to have spent the last five years of her life with Joseph.

"I love you." Clarisse spoke softly in his ear. Her intention was not to be heard by the sleeping man, but only to inject some affection into his dreams, and to speak her constant thought.

"Mmm. Good morning to you, too." Joseph mumbled.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"I like to be roused like that. But only by you." Clarisse blushed.

"Well, I can only hope, my dear." She whispered, kissing him again. "We should take a walk today."

"Oh, and where should we go?" He teased her.

"I suppose through the gardens, as usual."

"Yes, the apple trees are blossoming." Joe rolled out of bed. "It should be beautiful." Clarisse nodded, motioning for him to come back to bed.

"Don't leave."

"My dear, I could never leave you. But seeing as it is nine o'clock, we should get out of bed."

"Oh! Oh Dear. Is it already so late?" She jumped out of bed and hastened, (a queen never rushed, not even an former queen rushed in the privacy of her own suite), across the room to her closet. "How about this?" The formidable woman held up a strawberry pink skirt suit.

"It's lovely." Joseph's words were sincere, and kind.

"I thought so, too." Clarisse grinned.

A walk among the gardens of the palace was exactly what they had in mind for their day. The newly blooming trees created the perfect backdrop for the perfect fairy-tale love. The trees held the captivating white blossoms and were dusted with dew from the morning. The sun shown brightly with white, fluffy, clouds lining the sky. It was warmer today than yesterday had been, and the suit that Clarisse had picked out was now causing her the least bit of discomfort. Clarisse held Joseph's hand gently as they walked along, talking of what was floating around in their minds.

"You know, I never thought I'd be this lucky." Joseph leaned towards his wife and whispered in her ear.

"What do you mean?"

"To finally have you all to myself. I love you, Clarisse."

"I love you, too." The wind picked up and a few apple blossoms fell at their feet as they kissed lovingly. Joseph reached behind him and plucked a twig overflowing with flowers off the tree. As they parted he tucked it in her hair. She laughed throatily and reached for his hand. She felt so much like a child again, walking in the orchard with the man she loved.

"Must we go back?"

"Yes, I have work to do." She darkened, upset that he ruined the mood.

"One would think that when you gave up the job, you would really give up the job."

"Oh. . . Joseph. I'm sorry." Clarisse apologized, sensing the bitterness in his voice. "I suppose the work can wait until later, after all, you are much more important."

"No, no. Do the work now, but I get you at night."

"Of course." She giggled. "Thank you for understanding Joseph. I love you."

"I love you, too." Holding hands, they walked slowly back toward the palace, and out of the romantic fairy-tale.

Chapter 6 -


	2. Sunsets

Chapter 2 - Sunsets

"_The day I met you_

_My heart spoke to me_

_It said to love you_

_Through eternity_

_Not knowing you were another's pride_

_I vowed I'd always be close by your side"_

_**Patty Loveless - I Know You're Married (But I Love You Still)**_

Music was playing loudly from the suite of second most royal couple in all of Genovia. Clarisse loved to play french music as she worked to help solve the issues of her country that Mia could not handle on her own. Clarisse knew that, by now, Mia should be left alone. But, Clarisse had trouble letting go, even though Mia was now married and expecting the next great heir to the throne. And Clarisse was ecstatic to become a great-grandmother.

The work that she had been working on for the past three hours was almost complete, but, as Clarisse knew, there was always more to be done. Suddenly, she felt her mind drift away, to the walk in the garden from earlier, a fond memory of that day. The loving walk that they had shared, the kiss, the flowers. The ex-queen snapped back to her work and finished it quickly, exiting the room to find her husband.

"My darling, what are you doing here?" Joseph sat in the gazebo where he had first proposed to his wife. He was staring off into space, and hardly noticed that he had company, whereas before he had been alone.

"Visiting you. Can't I do that?" She straightened her jacket and sat down.

"Of course, I just thought you had work to do." He kissed her lightly on the lips, a way to say hello.

"Well, I stopped. I couldn't get you out of my mind."

"I like that."

"Mmmm... I'm sure you do." Clarisse turned her back to him and nestled into Joe's embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling the warmth of her body against his. Clarisse grabbed his hand and linked their fingers gracefully together.

"A penny for your thoughts, my dear." He spoke after a few minutes of silence.

"Oh, I...I was just thinking about Mia."

"What about her?"

"How she'll do as a mother. If she can run a country and a household at the same time."

"I'm sure she will be all right." With his free hand, Joe caressed her arm gently, running his fingers up and down the bare skin. A mindless habit he had fallen into "I believe in her."

"One of my biggest regrets is having nannies for the children." Clarisse looked off into the horizon. Lowering her voice to a whisper. "I never. . . _really_ had the chance to be their mother."

"Clarisse, you did beautifully." He tried his best to comfort her, knowing that she had, in fact, been a wonderful mother to her boys. No one could run a country and a household like Clarisse.

"Thank you."

"You are always welcome."

Joseph had always known what time the sun would go down, and he hardly ever missed it. The palace had an excellent view of one of nature's most beautiful shows. Sometimes Clarisse would join him, and hand in hand they would watch the sun fall behind the line of the world that they could see. Not a word was spoken between them. The silence was all they needed to communicate what they were feeling. "My dear, what time does the sun set tonight?" Joseph asked. Clarisse turned to face him.

"You don't know?" Shock lined her face.

"I seem to have forgotten." His wife now turned her look to one of concern.

"I'm not sure. It has to be soon, though."

"Yes." Joe captured her lips in a kiss. "Would you care to join me in watching it?"

"I'd be honored."

Clarisse lay awake later that night, thinking about the man that was sleeping next to her. Joseph's arm was draped across her waist, his hand intertwined with hers. He had been forgetting things lately, important things, and this worried his wife and prevented her from sleeping. His words filled her mind:

"_Clarisse, my darling, I've forgotten what we call this dance."_

"_Besides, you are going the wrong way."_

"_Oh I am, aren't I?"_

"_I seem to have forgotten._"

As long as he never forgot her, or forgot the bond that made their love beautiful, she told herself not to worry, not to fret. He would come around soon enough. It was just old age. That was what happened, right? A night full of nightmares lie ahead of the royal Clarisse. She only had nightmares when something was terribly wrong. One awoke her with such a jolt she sat upright, taking Joseph's arm with her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her breathing was heavy.

"Clarisse?! What's the matter?" There was urgency in Joe's voice, as softly as he had whispered to her.

"I just...had a dream...I'm all right." She sobbed. He rubbed her back soothingly and enveloped her in a hug, rocking her gently back and forth. Who knew a man who always wore black could be so tender and loving.

"Sh..."

"Oh, Joseph, it was terrible." Clarisse felt silly sobbing into his chest as if she were three years old again and this were her father, urging her that no monsters lived in her toy-chest. The events of the past few minutes were also strangely comforting, as if someone were giving her a sign that her husband would always be there for her.

"My darling, it was only a dream." Her sobs quieted and he helped her to lay back down. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He lay next to her and she snuggled close to him, feeling the warmth of his body next to hers. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. If only she could stay like this forever, for this, to her, was heaven.

The morning came too quickly as they awoke in the same position they had fallen asleep in. Joseph looked at his wife, watching her sleep delicately on his chest. She was so perfect in his eyes. The way her eyelashes were almost long enough to graze her cheeks. How she slept with her lips slightly parted, and how one hand was curled by her chest and the other was resting on his. Her eyes fluttered open to discover her husband watching her. Although it shocked her to have a pair of eyes be the first thing she saw, it comforted her that he was there, watching over her and protecting her.

"Good morning, Clarisse."

"Good morning." Clarisse leaned her head up to kiss him gently.

"How are you feeling, my darling?"

"Just fine." She rolled over to stretch.

"I'm happy to hear that. I was worried about you."

"Oh, tush, you mustn't worry about _me_." Joseph rolled his eyes, careful not to let his wife see.

"If you don't mind my asking, what was your nightmare?" He hated to remind her of the events of last night, but if he could comfort her by letting her talk it out, he'd like to know what sent his once cold and calloused wife to tears.

It had been horrible. All she saw was black. She could hear someone calling for help, someone very dear to her. Perhaps it had been Joseph. She was running down a hallway, a din light was at the end, and suddenly she saw him, the man calling for help. Strangely familiar, and tied in a chair, yelling, and begging for someone to help. But she couldn't reach him, no matter how far she thought she went, no matter what she did, Clarisse could not help him.

"I'd rather not talk about it." If it had been Joseph, it meant that Clarisse could not fix what was going to happen, and she didn't feel like knowing what that was.

"All right. As long as you are feeling OK."

"I am."

"Clarisse? Have you seen my book?" Joseph called from the other room. He was looking in the bottom of the closet. "I swear it was right here!" Frustration was evident in his voice.

"Now, darling, really. Why would it be in there? It's on the night stand." It always was.

"Right. But who needs...whatever it was...with you looking like that." She stood above where he sat on the floor, with a light nightgown framing her body. The light shone behind her, creating a halo effect. Joseph struggled to get up, and ran a hand down her cheek.

"Mmmm..." Clarisse never got a word out, his lips captured hers before she could speak, and soon they were tangled in the sheets, and spent a lazy Sunday in their room. Whispered 'I love you's the only words spoken.


	3. Divine Intervention

Chapter 3 - Divine Intervention

As the days went on, Clarisse worried more and more about Joseph. She watched him like a hawk, but he didn't realize it. Or so she thought.

"Clarisse. I'll be fine. I'll be back in one hour."

"But...Joseph, wouldn't you rather Shades went? Or Lionel?" Her hands were out, trying to get him to come back as he tried to leave.

"No, my darling, I think I can handle it." He stuck a hand up to stop her.

"But it's just so far away." She tried again.

"It's just the Prime Minister's house, my dear. I can go, I just have to pick up your papers." Joseph held her hands loosely. "I love you." He whispered, kissing her softly.

"Aww! You guys are so cute!" The couple heard Mia coo from the stairs.

"Oh, Amelia! I haven't seen you in days. How are you, dear?" Clarisse greeted her warmly.

"I'm good, Grandma. Oh! Someone says hello!" Mia indicated to her growing stomach, taking Clarisse's hand and placing it on the top. The former queen felt her great-grandson kick for the first time.

"Oh! My goodness! Joseph. . . It's amazing, feel this." He placed a hand on top of Clarisse's and sighed.

"I have to go." And with that he was gone.

"Are you two having a fight or something, 'cuz it sure didn't look like it a few minutes ago."

"No, no. I'm just worried about him, that's all." Clarisse sat on the couch in the lobby, straightening her jacket.

"Why?" Mia sat next to her, a hand still on her stomach, feeling the baby kicking from the inside and the out.

"He's forgetting things. Things he's always remembered." The former-queen looked away before a tear could dare make its way down her cheek.

"Like...?"

"The sunset." Her words were few, but many in their power.

"Oh, I see." Mia put a hand on her grandma's arm. "He's going to be OK, Grandma. He just forgot one time."

"Three." Clarisse muttered.

"What?"

"He has forgotten the sunset three days in a row."

"Oh."

"Mia? All you have to say is oh? My dear, you need to get better at this comforting thing!" The ex-queen almost yelled.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what to say."

"No, I apologize, I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"Grandma, it's Joe. He's a strong man, and he has reasons to be OK. He has a wife to protect."

"Thank you, Amelia, but I need to do something about this."

* * *

"Joseph, why don't you just let the accountants do that?" Joseph was sitting at a desk in their sweet, trying to figure out a math problem to do with their finances. He wanted to plan a very nice vacation, and was making a budget.

"It's not making sense, it has to make sense, Clarisse!" He threw down his pencil to make a point.

"Take a break. Just for a little while." Clarisse had his hands on his shoulders, she massaged them gently, feeling the tension building in his neck.

"You are right, my darling."

"Oh, tush, I always am." Her smile lit up the room as she leaned in to kiss him softly.

"I suppose you are." He stood up, only to walk across the room and sit on the edge of their large bed. His brain was wracking, and foreign thoughts kept interrupting his train of thought that was focused on math. Clarisse tried to make him forget the math, hating to see him suffer. She moved to the bed and sat next to her husband.

"Joseph, I'm afraid we need to talk."

"My dear, if this is about our anniversary, I swear I won't forget."

"Joseph, our. . .our anniversary was last week." He suddenly looked appalled.

"I forgot? I'm so sorry, Clarisse, I'll make it up to you."

"No, Joseph, you didn't forget. We had a very nice celebration."

This only confirmed Clarisse's fears. How could he have forgotten what had already happened?

"Oh. Go on, what did you want to talk about?"

"Joseph, I think you need to go see a doctor."

"Wh..."

"Let me finish. You have been forgetting things lately, and I want to make sure it's just old age."

"Clarisse, I can assure you that nothing is wrong."

"I really do wish that I could believe you this time, darling. But I can't, I simply can't."

"Clarisse..." Joseph spoke softly as a single tear fell down the cheeks of the former queen. He wrapped a gentle arm around her back, pulling her into his embrace.

"Please go see a doctor. . ." Clarisse whispered softly.

"I will. Just for you." She begin to cry. What if she lost him? What if she lost this man that had been her life for more than the last five years? He had always protected her, and been their when she was unhappy. How could she ever live without him by her side?

They sat their quietly, only the occasional body-shaking sob breaking the silence. Joseph rocked his wife back and forth, trying to comfort his wife, assuring her that he would never be incapable of loving her. Truthfully, he had been fearing the same thing she had been. He had noticed his failing mind. What if the forgetting, among other things, were more than just old age?

Later that night, when she had finally fallen asleep, her body too exhausted from sobbing to go on any longer, he crawled out of bed and tried to write her a letter. A letter to perhaps comfort her if he could not do so himself.

Not comfort her? The thought burned his mind. How could he not be there for her? He had always been there, good times and bad, but what if a disease took over his mind? Who would be there for her then? Joseph tried to shake the thoughts as he picked up a pen and a piece of paper from his wife's work desk.

_My Dearest Clarisse,_

_The doctor's tell me that I have been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. But, you already know that. I am expected to soon forget all the ones I love. I can not imagine forgetting you. For years I have worked at the palace, and I had watched you from afar, never getting close enough to tell you how I feel._

_I was happy to be their for you when King Rupert, may he rest in peace, passed away. Then again when you lost Prince Phillip. You have been a rock to Genovia in these hard times, and I was glad to be close to you._

_I'll never forget our dancing. The many dances we have shared over the years are close to my heart. The steps weigh like stones in my mind._

_Though my mind and body may have failed, my spirit never will. I will always love you. Though I may turn you away or claim not to know you, I will love you. If I ever forget you, remind me. Promise me that you will always tell me stories of the great times we have had so far. Tell me of our love, of the bond that we share. Hold my hand at night, when I am sleeping, so that I can communicate what I am really feeling. _

_Clarisse, My darling, do not cry for me. For it will do you no good. Just remember me always. Use the memories to comfort you. And if you must, use this sappy note._

_I love you, and I always will,_

_Joseph_

He set down the paper and pen and looked at the note he had written. It was far too emotional, and he debated on whether or not to give it to his wife in the horrible event of his being diagnosed with Alzhiemer's. Joseph held the paper loosely in his hand, and crumpled it.It fell silently to the floor, and was left there as he walked back across the room and climbed back into bed with Clarisse. She stirred a little, turning to face him.

"What..." She mumbled, he put a finger on her lips.

"Shh...Clarisse, it's just me." Leaning forward, he captured her lips in a light kiss. "I love you." He whispered.

"I love you, too..." Clarisse groaned, stretching and snuggling closer to her husband. Her head came to rest on his chest, her hand on his arm. Joseph took her hand in his, rubbing the back of it lightly with his thumb, and closed his eyes. The warmth of his wife's body next to his was a comforting feeling. He could feel her hot breath on his skin coming from her slightly parted mouth. Shaking the thoughts of her lithe and graceful body hidden beneath her nightgown from his mind, Joe rolled over, drifting off to sleep next to the woman he loved and always would.


	4. Promises

_A/N: Sorry guys, it's not happy yet, and I don't know if it will be. I already had this and one more chapter done when I posted the first one, so I'm sorry. I don't know how it will end yet, either... try not to be too sad. After all, if you watch PD2 you will know Joe is alive and very well! Thank you to the reviewers, though I don't thank you all personally I really am grateful to you all. Reviews brighten up my day a lot!_

Chapter 4 - Promises

"_Promises are like little diamonds_

_Promises are like little hearts_

_We meant to give away_

_I thought you'd want them back someday_

_I've kept them for you anyway_

_But I know I've been given hard promises to keep"_

_**Trisha Yearwood - Hard Promises to Keep**_

As Joseph had promised, his doctor's appointment was today. Nervously he walked around their room trying desperately to convince Clarisse to let him miss the appointment. With no such luck. Neither were dressed, and both were very scared to determine their future..

"Why do I have to go, it will just confirm our fears." He argued. But Clarisse was adamant, if he needed help, she would pay for the best in the world. He was her life, and losing him would surly mean the world had ended.

"Joseph. . ." She was clearly refraining from losing her temper. "Please. You must go."

"Alright. But I do still require some persuasion." Clarisse rolled her eyes, thrusting herself into his warm and waiting embrace.

"You dirty old man." She meant it, but she was teasing. They kissed delicately, as he held her so easily in his arms.

"But you love me anyway."

"Oh. . .Joseph, of course." Clarisse was once again saddened by the thoughts plaguing her mind.

"I love you, too."

"I will always love you, don't forget th. . . Oh, Joseph, I'm sorry." She whispered at seeing the expression on his face. He cleared his throat.

"My dear, we will be late."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The walk through the palace on the way outside was very solemn. Not a word was spoken between husband and wife. They held hands, mostly to calm themselves down. Clarisse's breathing was heavier than usual and she tried to lighten the mood when they finally made it to the car.

"I feel like we're going to our death." She tried so hard to smile.

"Oh, Clarisse, my darling it can't be that bad." Joseph rubbed her arm soothingly and kissed her forehead.

"It could."

"Way to be optimistic." There was sarcasm heavily laced in his voice.

"Sorry. Forgive me?" He leaned over to kiss her. "I'll take that as a yes."

"It was."

The driver closed the privacy screen and focused on the road. The tension in the car could be cut with a knife. All he knew is that he was driving them to a doctor somewhere in France. Unfortunately, this doctor would not make house-calls. . .

The sign on the door read 'Dr. Leone'. It was a small office, but he was known well around those parts. His family had treat the Renaldi's for the last 100 years. They were trusted, and always used. Clarisse knew she shouldn't be going to the same doctor that had diagnosed her late husband with the disease that killed him, but she felt a strong attachment. The black limousine pulled up to the quaint office and stopped. The driver sprung from his seat to open the door.

"Thank you." Her usually strong and peppy voice was anything but. It quivered and shook, and was quiet to the point of almost being inaudible.

"You are very welcome madam." The driver whispered back, his own voice failing him. This was a rare moment, to see the regal ex-queen coming completely unglued. It touched him to know that she was human, and to know she felt such a strong emotion for her husband.

"Clarisse?" Joseph squeezed her hand, bringing her back to his world.

"Mmm." She mustered up only a small sound in reply.

"I love you." If only he hadn't said that, maybe she could have stayed pieced together. At the very least until out of the public's ever-watching eye. If he hadn't been so tender, making her remember why she loved him so much, she wouldn't have shed a single tear. But now the usually composed queen had trembles running through her as she did the night she had been cursed with that haunting nightmare. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and her knees slowly gave way, buckling, causing her to collapse in a heap toward the cobblestoned sidewalk beneath her.

"I don't want to lose you." She whispered in his ear. He had caught her on the way down to the ground, her only support being his arms.

"I know."

"I don't want to lose you!" The former queen yelled.

"Clarisse! My darling, Clarisse. I will be fine, I could never leave you, my love, you will not lose me!"

"Joseph..." She sobbed. The entire ordeal was watched by the driver of their limo (who had also begun to cry.), and the doctor. Dr. Leone sat in his office, silently observing the couple, fascinated that she hadn't become aggressive yet, as she was hysterical in her crying, and expecting her at any moment to start striking the man who was her only support. Instead, the man held her close to him as she wept. Slowly the sobbing subsided, and they went into the office, hand in hand.

"Ah, the royal couple, I've been expecting you."

"Yes...Sorry we are late." In truth they had arrived on time, but the events that took place in the cobblestoned parking lot had taken more than fifteen minutes.

"Mr. Saporta, pleased to make your acquaintance." The doctor extended his hand. Also making a movement to kiss her majesty's hand.

"As I am yours, now, can we please get on with this before my beautiful, yet somewhat crazy, wife has a mental breakdown?" Clarisse shot him a nasty look and rolled her eyes which were still sparkling with tears.

"Of Course." The doctor walked to the door of his patient room and turned to face them. "Right this way, please." Joseph walked forward and Clarisse froze.

"Darling, it's time to go in."

"I don't think I can." She whispered plainly, her gaze affixed on something other than the man she was talking to. Something far off in the distance.

"Do you want to stay out..."

"No. Just...wait." She whispered. "I need a moment." Joseph took her hand and rubbed it gently with his thumb.

"Are you coming?" Dr. Leone asked impatiently.

"Shh..." The ex-security guard hissed. He ran his hand up and down her back soothingly. After a few minutes Clarisse broke away and walked noiselessly through the open door, ready to face what lie before them, to find out if she would lose her husband forever.

_Don't kill me! Not yet! Sorry for the over dramaticness...I'm like that sometimes..._


	5. Terrified

Chapter 5 - Terrified

"_You can't lose me_

_Bet your life_

_I am here and I always will be_

_Just a wish away_

_Wherever you go_

_No matter how far_

_My love is where you are_

_You won't be lost if you believe_

_You can't lose me_"

_**Faith Hill - You Can't Lose Me**_

Clarisse sat in a rolling desk-chair in the corner of the doctor's office, her black ensemble matched her mood quite well. Her hands were laying in her lap, but her fists were clenched tightly. The doctor stood tall, unaffected by his diagnoses. Joseph looked dumfounded, not expecting what the doctor had said. They let the words wash through the room, and echo off the walls until they finally sank in, burrowing deep in their souls, embedding forever in their minds. She looked wildly around the room, from Joseph, to the doctor and once again to her beloved husband. The verdict had come in, and the sentence was not good.

"What does this mean?" Joseph finally spoke, his voice cracking. A million and one questions floated about in his mind, and that was what came out first. "What do we do?"

"Well, there are a few options for you . . . " The doctor flipped through the many pages on his clipboard nervously. "There are medications we could try, non medical treatments, or we could . . . do nothing."

"Eliminate the last one." Clarisse piped in. The urgency in her voice was unsettling. _How dare he offer to do absolutely nothing?_

"Yes . . . I agree with Clarisse." Joseph looked sadly at his wife, he knew she was dying inside, the fear taking over as it never had taken over before. The doctor looked up again from the clipboard.

"Well, for you, since you were otherwise healthy before this, I would suppose we could try medications to try and keep this from moving to the moderate stage."

"Has that worked?" She became excited, hope glistening in her face.

"It has, but there is an extremely low chance of it doing anything worthwhile in this stage of the disease." The doctor chose his words tentatively, as to not kill the hope of the woman that stood in front of her, with cheeks so tear-stained they shone in the light.

"What do you think, Joseph?" Clarisse was now speaking softly and had joined her husband, standing by his side and holding his shaking hands in hers.

"Let's do that." He whispered. She nodded at him, holding her breath.

"All right." The doctor evaluated him further to choose a medication, and then wrote something on a pamphlet that he handed them.

"'Coping with Alzheimer's.'" Clarisse read. The pamphlet was fine, but the address the doctor had written on it confused her. "What's this?" She indicated to the writing.

"The address of a support group. It's very close to the pal . . . "

"No." She shook her head, handing the pamphlet back to him. "I will not give in, not yet."

An eerie silence plagued the royal limousine on the way home. The diagnoses had hit them harder then anyone thought it could. Clarisse and Joseph were staring out opposite windows, watching the Genovian scenery melt together. They didn't talk, move, or even touch. It was as if a wall separated the couple.

On any given normal day, when they were not together, each felt as if half of them was missing. Their other half belonged to their spouse. Although they were very near each other now, they felt this feeling anyway. Halfway through the ride, Clarisse lost her composure once again, her thoughts taking over. A tear fell silently down her cheek and she scooted as close to her always loving husband as possible. Laying her head on his shoulder, she murmured something in his ear.

"I love you, too." He turned noiselessly toward her and managed a weak smile. His hand intertwined with hers, and they were whole again.

"Grandma, Joe!" Mia waddled as quickly as possible down the stairs of the palace, being seven months pregnant, she could no longer run. She had been unable to do any work that day, much like everyone else, as she had been worried to death about Joseph."What is it? What did the doctor say?" Clarisse smiled weakly, a tear still hung in the corner of her eye. "Oh no." Somehow, by just looking at her Grandma's face, Mia knew. The news she was about to hear was not pleasant, and may change their lives.

"Amelia . . . " Clarisse couldn't tell her, it felt too blunt. It wouldn't come out correctly if she tried. The new queen quickly caught on.

"Oh . . . Grandma, Joe, I'm sorry." Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Don't be." Joseph grumbled angrily, pulling his hand violently out of his wife's grasp.

"Joseph?" The former queen whispered. "Joseph." He wouldn't talk, he shook his head furiously and walked into the palace. "Oh . . . " It wasn't like him to lose his temper so easily over something like this.

"Grandma, go get some sleep, you both are very frustrated." Mia held her grandma's hand in her own.

"Yes. We are, aren't we?" Clarisse patted Mia's hand absent-mindedly. "Hmm." She looked off into the distance, then dropped Mia's hand and went inside. She would show her husband how much she loved him. Maybe not tonight, but she would.

"Joseph?" Clarisse softly knocked twice on the door, tentatively opening it. She peered inside to discover her husband. He was sitting on the bed, staring at his left hand sadly. "Oh, my dear. What's wrong?"

"I..." Joe choked out, his voice was lost in the morose feeling laying upon the air.

"What, what happened?" She took a seat next to him, taking his left hand tenderly in both of hers. Clarisse rubbed his hand with her thumbs. "Oh, darling. It's just a simple piece of gold. It means absolutely nothing." Though, she too, felt sadness, for her husband was now without a ring, unable to remember exactly where he put the item that had once symbolized their strong marriage.

"Right. You're right. I'm sorry Clarisse." He turned toward her, seemingly snapping back to his old self, in an instance Clarisse wanted to forever hold in time.

"Don't worry, darling." She reached her hand up and cupped his cheek. Their lips met smoothly, and they parted again.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." Though the words came automatically, both meant them with all their heart.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He whispered gently.

"Of course, Joseph, you can tell me anything." She whispered back, although frightened what he might say next.

"I'm terrified." Relief lined her tired face. She was glad she was not the only one scared out of her mind of what would become of them.

"You know what?" She asked quietly, her hands now tangled in his.

"What?"

"I am, too." They leaned forward, and touched their foreheads together, knowing that neither of them would have a problem if they stayed like this forever.


	6. Vanilla Lace

Chapter 6 - Vanilla Lace

"_He took off East one morning_

_In the rising sun's red glow_

_She knew he was going nowhere_

_But of course she let him go_

_As she stood and watched him dwindle_

_Much to empty to be sad_

_He Reappeared beside her and said_

'_You're all I've ever had'"_

_**Shooting Star - Harry Chapin**_

The soft scent of perfume wafted through the halls, slipping under the cracks in the doors, weaving past security personnel, assistants and various members of parliament. The fragrance filled the air, only Clarisse knowing its true source.

She was sitting alone in her suite, the perfume bottle in one hand, a tissue in the other. Any moment now, the delightful smell would irritate her nose, but she loved it so. It had been a present from Joseph on their first Christmas together, and was now comforting her as much as possible.

Vanilla Lace. The perfume was titled strangely, but the aroma was irritatingly familiar. It reminded her of the sugar cookies her mother would make when she was only five years old. Little Clarisse would come running in the door, thoroughly exhausted from a full day of private kindergarten schooling. The first sight she would see was her adoring mother pulling cookies out of the oven. The cookies were always soft and warm, and a little burnt around the edges. Her mother was never good at baking, but it was the fact that she cared enough to try that made Lillian Walker the small child's hero and best friend. The thing she missed most about her mother was that she cared so much to try and give her daughter the life that _she_ never had herself.

Now that aroma of sugar cookies was just as comforting, when the ex-queen was frazzled and distressed. Enveloping her in the warmth of the memory of her mother's unconditional love.

"Your majesty?" Joseph's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"Joseph?" She asked back, a bit angry he had called her 'your majesty' once again.

"I forgot to knock. I apologize."

"You really don't need to knock." She laughed, and the look on his face turned to puzzled.

"I just came to tell you that supper is ready."

"Thank you."

The warm night air filtered in through the windows of the suite of the young and pregnant queen. She was having trouble sleeping this night more than any other night. She felt as if a weight had been placed at the bottom of her stomach, and that the baby had moved down. She chose to ignore it, however, and go for a walk to calm her nerves.

"Nicolas, Nicolas." She shook him violently. "Wake up." He was snoring, and snorted as he awoke. His hand had been gently laying on his wife's stomach, feeling their baby kick through the night as he slept.

"Huh?" His snorting caused a giggle out of Mia.

"I'm going for a walk."

"All right. See ya." King Nicolas rolled over and pulled the covers tightly around him. Mia shook her head. How attentive to her needs he was while sleeping . . . She got out of bed, not bothering getting dressed, and walked past the guards outside, the warm air rushing through her body. She had walked all the way to the stables when she felt a warm rush of fluid between her legs.

"Oh dear . . . " She looked down to confirm that unfortunately she had not fallen into a giant bathtub . . . her baby was about to be delivered nine weeks premature. The queen walked, or rather, waddled as quickly as possible back to the palace, shouting to the guards.

"Help! Help! I'm in labor!" Yes, it sounded stupid for the queen to be yelling this, but the contractions had started, and she felt the pain sharp in her back and didn't know what to do. A guard rushed to her side, picking her up and carrying her into the building. "Oh, god please, help me. Help my son."

Clarisse was lying in Joe's warm embrace. They had been awake half the night. Finally, after many kisses goodnight, they had fallen asleep, nestled in each-others arms. Now she awoke to hear her granddaughter's desperate cries.

"Joseph! Wake up. Mia is in labor." She shook him carefully, speaking in a soft voice.

"Ok." He rolled back over, and Clarisse hit him violently.

"Joseph! She's nine weeks early!" She was nearly in tears, shaking her husband, who seemed like he didn't even care.

"Early for what?" He had rolled over to look at his wife, who had gotten out of bed and was now looking for some underclothes to put on.

"Delivering!" She shouted, tripping over a bottle of wine they had left on the floor after emptying it a few hours ago. "Ouch! Damn bottle." Actually, she had rather liked that bottle . . . but right now it was very much in the way.

"Like a parcel?" His voice was so innocent, and it killed Clarisse to know that he wasn't joking around.

"No, a baby!" Clarisse yelled. "Come on!" She was losing patience very fast. "We need to go!"

"All right, just a second. These . . . hmm . . . things take time . . . " Joseph was looking at his wife, who was almost completely unclothed and smirked. "You going like that?"

"Joseph, I swear!" She yelled running across the room wildly, grabbing at the first outfit she saw.

"No, you hardly ever swear. Though I do enough of that for the both of us." Even Clarisse had to smile at that, she had to admit, she was getting worse. She was pulling a very light sweater over her head as she smirked to herself.

"Joe. Get dressed." He was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his open closet.

"What should I wear?"

"What you usually do . . . Joseph?" What she saw when she finally looked up was Joseph, fingering the clothes that hung neatly in the storage area. He pulled out a heavy sweatshirt and set it on the bed. Clarisse looked at the thermometer, it read to be about 22 degrees Celsius (70 Fahrenheit). A sweatshirt would certainly not do. "Joseph, no, no. It's very warm outside. A tee-shirt is better." She gently coaxed her husband to grab something more suitable, and tried very hard not to think of the reasons he may have picked that sweatshirt.


	7. A Matter of Life

Chapter 7 - A Matter of Life

"_It's always one thing or another_

_Seems like we never get ahead _

_Reaching out for the brass Ring_

_Landing in the dirt instead_

_We can't get past yesterday_

_We're only countin' down from 10_

_Seems like every move we make_

_Brings us back where we began_

_You've got to run between the raindrops_

_If you wanna see the sun_

_Run, run, run, between the raindrops"_

_**Run Between the Raindrops - Pat Benatar/Neil Giraldo**_

Mia had long since made it to the hospital, her obstetrician meeting her at the door, as to try and not cause a stir with the press. Luckily no one had yet found out that Queen Mia was in labor at 31 weeks, (Before 36 weeks considered to be premature) except her grandmother, who was now bursting through the doors of the hospital, Joe tagging behind. Though she knew quite well that a queen never rushed, she was rushing now. In fact, it was quite a sight to see the formidable ex-queen running through the halls of the hospital.

"Where is she? Where is my granddaughter?" She yelled, fear lining her face.

"Room 203. Would you like me to ta . . . "

"No!" Clarisse yelled. She reached for Joseph's hand and walked very quickly to the elevator, pressing the button over and over.

"Clarisse, may I point out that no matter how many times you push it, it still goes up and down the same way." She turned to him and stared wide-eyed. How could he make a joke at a time like this?

"Shut up! And I mean it this time." He knew she did, he hadn't seen her so frazzled since Rupert passed.

"Darling, I must ask you to calm down, it's not good for your heal . . . " DING! Clarisse jumped at the noise, using it as her cue to run inside and push the close door button.

- - -

"I can't!" Mia gasped out, trying desperately for the energy for her last push. She had been in labor for 17 hours, her grandmother refusing to leave the room, sitting on Joe's lap in the corner. His legs were asleep, but his wife was shaking with fear, and his arms wrapped around her seemed to help.

"You can, Mia, come on!" Nicolas, who was very worried and almost in tears, coached his wife to take a breath and put all her life into the birth of their son. Edward Christoff Philippe Gerard Renaldi II was born and instead of immediately being thrust into his mothers waiting arms, was taken to another room. How she hated that this tiny being that was now fighting for his life was already tied to the crown, much like she had always been. This baby she wanted only to hold close to her chest was already meant to be king one day. She only hoped that would be what he wanted.

"Amelia, he's beautiful." Clarisse was almost in tears, rushing to her granddaughter's side. "He truly is."

"Grandma, what . . . how . . . is he . . . " She was mumbling, and Clarisse took hold of the hand that Nicolas was not holding.

"He's fine, at least he will be." She added the last part to her self, turning to see Joe fast asleep in his chair. "He will be."

"Are you sure?" Mia didn't wait for the answer. "Call mom."

"Yes, dear, of course." Clarisse, not wanting to leave her granddaughter's side called to her husband. "Joseph?" She said quietly.

"Yes dear?" He mumbled.

"Will you get Helen on the phone for me?"

"Sure." He walked out of the room and Clarisse could hear him pass the message onto Charlotte. Charlotte burst into the room and handed the phone to Mia, who handed it to her grandmother. Could they do anything themselves?

"Helen, it's Clarisse." She quickly gave an update, handing the phone to Mia once again, who decided she would now talk to her mother.

"Mom?" She whispered. Her mother was crying and exclaiming things like, "My baby is a mother!" and other things that embarrassed the very tired queen. "Yea, I'll call back. I love you, too. Say hi to the family for me." Her mother was planning to fly to Genovia on a red-eye, and leave the rest of her family at home.

"Grandma, can you get everyone out of here? I want to sleep." Mia whispered. Her grandma nodded.

"All right, everybody out."

"Thanks. Oh, Grandma." Mia called Clarisse back into the room after everyone else had left. "Keep an eye on Philippe." Clarisse had tears in her eyes. He was so tiny, she had to wonder if he would even survive the night.

"I will." She tried once again to leave, only to be called back.

"I'm so scared, grandma."

"Oh, my dear." She leaned down, smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead. "Have courage, my darling, and have faith. We can only go up from here."

"Thank you, I love you."

"I love you, too, Amelia." She turned off the light and left the room, heading for the neonatal unit of the hospital. The problem was she didn't know where that was. So after finding Joseph and a nurse, she finally was directed toward it.

"Your majesty, would you care for some tea?" A nurse was asking her this pointless question while showing her the waiting room.

"Why are you out here, offering me things I can get myself when you should be in there helping with my great-grandson?" This terse comment that quieted the nurse rolled off her tongue so easily, you would have thought she'd been practicing it for years.

"Darling, you are very tense." Joseph pointed out bluntly.

"Well of course I'm tense!" She snapped. "Oh, Joseph, I'm sorry dear. I shouldn't take my anger out on you like that. It's just . . . I'm stuck in here, when Mia asked me to keep an eye on Philippe for her."

"Madam, there's really nothing you can do." Charlotte pointed out.

"I know . . . I just wish there was." Joseph put an arm around his wife and kissed her head. She leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. It would be a long night.

-

"Your Majesty?" Charlotte shook her softly. "Clarisse?"

"Hmm?" She stirred, rolling over from her spot on Joe's chest . . . where was Joe? The ex-queen was now lying flat on the chairs, not knowing where her husband was.

"Your majesty are you awake?"

"Yes. Charlotte, I'm awake, now where is my husband. How is Mia? The baby?"

"Slow down, one thing at a time." Charlotte's face was lined with worry, Clarisse knew she'd been up all night. "Clarisse, Joe is . . . "

"What, Joe is what?" She could feel hot tears springing to her eyes. "Where is he?!" She yelled. Charlotte put a hand on her arm.

"He's downstairs, he woke up in the middle of the night and didn't know where he was or. . . well, they took him to a bed, he's ok."

"Or?"

"What?"

"You said or? Why did you say or?"

"Ma'am. . ."

"Tell me."

"He didn't know who you were." Charlotte spoke slowly, and had to catch her balance when the ex-queen almost flung herself into her arms. It was awkward enough calling her Clarisse, but now she had to hug her . . . "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I've lost him, Charlotte. He's gone. Oh, what do I do?" A few tears fell down her cheeks, as she sat back up. "How's Mia?"

"Mia is fine."

"The baby?"

"The baby is great. Doing better than expected."

"Well, at least we have one piece of good news. Will you . . . "

"Yes." She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to go see her husband. So Charlotte led her down the hallway, and they rode in the elevator down one floor.

- - - -

"Joseph." Clarisse whispered under her breath. He was hooked up to an IV, and a doctor was checking his chart.

"Are you the wife?" He asked without looking up.

"Yes. Clarisse Re . . . Saporta." She eliminated her old last name. It was time.

"Oh, goodness. Queen Clarisse. My deepest apologies! I didn't recognize you."

"I don't mind, how is my husband?" She looked sadly at him from across the room

"He is fine, we're just giving his a sedative, so he'll be a little groggy when he wakes up, but feel free to visit." Clarisse wasted no time in rushing to his side and taking his hand. She hated seeing him so weak, so vulnerable. He was her head of security, who people compared to Shaft! Shaft was never hooked up to an IV. Shaft was tough, unbreakable. And though she had no real idea of whom Shaft was, she was sure he didn't have Alzheimer's. The horrible thought of 'Why did this happen to us?' came to her mind as she observed her sleeping husband. She tried to shake it away, knowing she had no right to think it.

"Joe?" She whispered, kneeling next to him as he stirred. "It's Clarisse, your wife" How stupid she felt saying this. Of course she was his wife! He should know that! "I love you." She added, kissing his temple. He moaned softly, the medication doing exactly as the doctor had said.

"Darling?" He asked.

"Yes, yes it's me! I'm here!" The nurse that was passing by had to ask Clarisse to lower her voice.

"Where am I?" Maybe it was just the medication talking.

"A Hospital."

"Did Mia have her baby?" No, he was gone again.

"Yes, darling."

"Why did you call me darling?"

"Oh, no. Joseph! Please, stay with me. I love you." Clarisse begged, rubbing her hand against his cheek. "Please."

"Your majesty, maybe we should go. You'll just get yourself worked up. You need to go home." Charlotte placed a gentle hand on Clarisse's back, a few tears in her own eyes.

"I know, and Joseph needs to come with me." She demanded.

"Why am I going with you, I don't even know you."

"Oh, god! Please! Don't take him from me!" She sank slowly to floor, her hands falling limp at her sides, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"Come on, Clarisse, let's go."

"No! I can't just leave him here!"

"I will make arrangements to have him brought home. You need sleep, Clarisse."

"Joseph, I will be back for you, whether you know it or not."

"Come on." Charlotte ushered her out of the room, to her limo, and home.

- - -

"It's empty." She whispered, staring at the side of the bed usually occupied by Joseph. Since they had been married, they had not spent a night apart. They never went to bed angry, and always woke up together. If one person had to leave early, they would leave a romantic note on their pillow for the other to find. But tonight there would be no Joseph, and no romantic note in the morning.

"Your majesty? Will you be all right if we go to supper?"

"Yes, go." She shooed her ladies maids, and they left reluctantly. To see the formidable woman that few were allowed to call Clarisse fall apart so easily. Every time she saw the empty bed, when she saw his picture, when she thought about him, even. She would fall to pieces. Sometimes laying on the floor and crying for an hour at a time. Finally she worked up the courage to lie down in their bed, tears falling down her face, and she cried herself to sleep.

The first night after Rupert had died, she had done very much the same thing. The only difference was that Joe was there the entire time. When she had decided to go to bed, he sat by her bedside and listened to his best friend sob. When he couldn't take it anymore, he climbed up onto the bed and lay down next to her, holding her shaking body close to his. Whispering to her the things she wanted, and needed, to hear. Of course, back then, their relationship had been totally platonic. But she would welcome his loving arms now, just as she had so many years ago.

- _- - _

_A/N: Goodness! This chapter was so hard to write! I would write a sentence, then it would take me 10 minutes to compose myself! Haha. Please, don't kill me for doing this! We need something other than the fluff don't we? Well, at least I didn't kill anybody! (You should never think a baby is in danger with me! I would never __ever __forgive myself if I hurt a baby, fictional or not.) Please review for me! I love my 28 reviews I have so far! Thanks to everyone for taking the time to read it and review it! That's a record for me. Haha. _


	8. Unanswered Prayers

Chapter 8 - Unanswered Prayers

"_Looking back_

_On the memory of_

_The dance we shared_

_Neath the stars above_

_For a moment_

_All the world was right_

_How should I have know_

_That we'd ever say goodbye_

_And I'm glad I didn't know_

_The way it all would end_

_The way it all would go_

_Our lives are better left to chance_

_I could have missed the pain_

_But I'd of had to miss_

_The dance_"

_**Garth Brooks - The Dance**_

Just as she had suspected, no note. There was nothing on her pillow to explain her husband's absence. No "I love you's" whispered softly in her ear to wake her from a dream-less sleep. There was nothing to look forward to, nothing good to do today. All she would do would be to go visit her husband.

"Except he doesn't even know who I am. He told me he wouldn't forget our love, he promised!" She was hysterical. When Charlotte knocked on the door, Clarisse let out a load groan.

"Your majesty." She entered, standing at the edge of Clarisse's bed.

"Charlotte, I am NOT in the mood for parliament things today."

"I. . .I'm not. . .That's not why I'm here." The most formidable woman Charlotte had ever known was so deeply hurt she was taking it out on her staff. . .and friends.

"They please, do tell, why ARE you here?" Clarisse said sarcastically.

"I. . ."

"Oh, Charlotte, I'm sorry. Will you forgive an old queen?"

"Of course."

"Why are you here, dear?"

"I wanted to know how you are feeling, and if I should arrange a car for you to go see Joseph."

"Do you think it's a good idea?

"Only if you do."

"Charlotte! Cut the act. As my friend." Charlotte, still uncomfortable with the idea, stiffened at the word friend. "Do you think it's a good idea for me to go visit Joseph."

"Yes."

"You _do_?" Clarisse had not expected that to be the answer. "Why?"

"You can't just shut him out of your life, Clarisse."

"You are right. Just because he no longer loves me. . ." Charlotte looked at the ex-queen. She was turning a ghastly white. "Charlotte. He. . .doesn't love me anymore."

"No. No! He does, of course he does. He just doesn't know it."

"Right. You are right. Well, we need to go, give me an hour, please."

- - -

"Darling?" Joseph whispered to his wife, who had just entered the room.

"Yes, it's me, Clarisse." She whispered back, dropping to her knees beside him, and stroking his cheek. "Oh my dear. My dear Joseph."

"Where am I?" _Not again._ She thought.

"A Hospital." It pained Clarisse to think she may have to do this everyday. To tell her husband where he was, who she was, and possibly one day, who he was.

"Did Mia have her baby?"

"Yes." Clarisse choked out. "A boy."

"Clarisse." He pulled her closer by her jacket. "Take me out of here."

"I. . .I can't."

"But I think I missed you last night."

"I know I missed you." Came her cold reply.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Of course you can." At that moment she didn't care if he thought she was herself or not. Just to feel his lips on hers again would be enough. He pulled her close and pressed their lips together.

"I love you."

"Oh, Joseph, I love you, too."

Charlotte had been standing in the back of the room watching her queen fall apart. She could tell, after knowing her for so many years, exactly what she was thinking. She was thinking about having to do this every day, having to retell her life story to the man she loved so dearly every day. "I'll come back, darling. I promise you I will."

"Good. Then I can kiss you again."

"Yes, you can." Clarisse kissed his temple softly and patted his hand. "Come along, Charlotte. Mia gets to come home today."

"Yes, your majesty."

- - -

"Welcome home, Amelia! And little Philippe!" Clarisse placed her fingure inside her grandson's tiny hand, watching him grasp it automatically. She always felt this to be the most charming attribute to a newborn.

"Grandma. . .would you like to hold him?"

"Oh, heavens dear, I haven't held a baby in years. . ." Before she could finish Mia was handing the crown prince to the ex-queen. "Oh, he's so tiny. I'd forgotten."

"Yea, I know." Mia laughed nervously, watching her grandma fawn and fuss over her new son. He soon began to cry, and Clarisse all but panicked.

"Oh...Oh...here! Take him back!"

"Oh, grandma, you raised two sons!"

"Over 40 years ago, Mia!"

"True." Clarisse handed Philippe the second back to his mother, smiling when he calmed down. "I'm going to take a nap, Nicolas?"

"Yes dear?" The proud father asked.

"Take Philippe for an hour, please. I'd really like to sleep."

"Sure." Nicolas held his son proudly in his arms and followed his wife to their room.

"Charlotte. They make a fine couple, don't they?"

"Yes they do."

- - -

"Yes, that will be . . ._adequate_. Thank you." Clarisse struggled for the right words. Joseph had been moved to a nursing home, where he could be 'cared for.' Charlotte had assured her it was the best choice though it was horrible in her opinion. There were hours she would be 'allowed' to see her husband. For six hours a day she could see him. With this new 'Arrangement' she had visiting hours, for the man she had given her life to. The man she had made love to at 3:00 in the morning. The man who would wake her up at six to lay in bed and talk until it was time to get up. The man she had conversations with from dinner-time until bedtime long before they were even in love.

"Clarisse? Was that the nursing home?" Charlotte asked, entering the queen's suite.

"Yes. They're giving him a very nice room, and have informed me of the hours I can see my husband."

"Oh?"

"Yes, from Ten a.m. until Four p.m."

"Would you like me to set up a limo to take you tomorrow?" It was already four at the time, and Charlotte was sure Clarisse was disappointed about that.

"Yes, thank you." Clarisse turned to move to her bedroom. "I'm just going to take a nap."

"Yes, your majesty." Charlotte exited the room, turning off the lights and closing the door.

- - -

By the time she awoke it was half past nine.

The sun had gone down, seeming to swallow all the happiness left in Clarisse's soul with it. She knew deep down that she couldn't go back to sleep, and was angry that no one had woken her from her siesta. It was true. She had been very tired. But now she would be up until at least three, and that was not her idea of fun.

Because at night, it seemed as if the palace shut down. The phones stopped ringing, people stopped visiting, the problems of her country drifted away, the staff left for the evening. The only people left in the castle were those that lived there, and of course security.

There had always been nights when Clarisse couldn't sleep, and there always would be. But on those nights in the past she could walk effortlessly by the library, and be caught by a certain security camera, manned by a certain security guard. She would then float to the kitchen, where she would soon be joined by Joseph. They would spend hours talking, and eating Genovian Pears with tea. Joseph always made her tea when she couldn't sleep.

These were the nights, the conversations and the memories that Clarisse held highest in her heart. When she could be herself around someone, around a man. Now that his mind was gone, it was as if 'herself' was missing. She wasn't able to express her greatest desires, to tell her deepest secrets, dream her most daring dreams, or wish her favorite wishes around anyone but Joseph.

The one secret she could not keep, was how much she missed him.

Tonight she walked slowly past the library, and into the kitchen as usual. But there was no one there to make her tea, and no one there to chat with. So she made her own tea, after all she wasn't incompetent, and she talked to herself. She talked about how sad a sight she was to the guards watching her, she talked about how much she missed Joseph and she prayed. She prayed a prayer she knew could not come true. She prayed that God bring him back to her.


	9. Rock Bottom

Chapter Nine - Rock Bottom.

Warning: I had to change the rating, for subject matter, to T.

"_My right hand holds matches, my left holds my past_

_I hope the wind catches, and burns it down fast_

_I'm gonna step into the fire, with my failures and my shame_

_And wave goodbye to yesterday as I dance among the flames_

_Don't try to save me now_

_Let the walls of my world all burn down_

_Just stand back and wait 'till the smoke finally passes_

_And I will rise_ _from the ashes_"

_**From the Ashes - Martina McBride**_

When she laid down to bed the next night, she thought about how horrible the visit to the nursing home had been that day. When she had tried to touch her husband, Joseph had slapped her hand away, yelling something about not knowing her. So she sat in the corner and watched him wring his hands repetitively. Over and over he rubbed his hands together and cracked his knuckles. It was a painful sight for Clarisse to see this man who never fidgeted fidget so intently now. She sat for two hours, until he finally spoke.

"What are you doing?"

"Remembering." She had been lost in thought for some time now, remembering dancing with this man who looked so impossibly weak right now.

"So am I." He clipped, looking at her. Her eyes widened with hope. "I'm remembering holding you in my arms, and kissing all your pain away. I think someone had died."

"Oh . . . Joseph."

"Who died?"

"My son." Clarisse choked out.

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Her eyes filled with tears. He remembered that he loved her.

That was something.

A silence fell upon the room, but was soon shattered by Joseph yelling that a stranger was in his room. Clarisse sobbed at him while he yelled, telling him that she loved him, and was not a stranger, but he had kept yelling, and the nurse had told her to go home, that it was 'surely enough for today'.

_There has to be a way to fix this. _She thought. Then she saw it. Her way out.

There on her moonlit beside table sat Joseph's bottles of medication. A very strong pain medication, an Anti-Depressant and something else the doctor had prescribed for him before the nursing home had taken Joseph in. She though briefly about how easy it would be for her to take all of the pills. Quickly she shook the thought out of her mind.

It drifted back.

_I'm 70 years old. Who would miss me?_ She grabbed the pain medication off the night stand and rolled the bottle in her fingertips. _Joseph is basically gone, what do I have to live for?_ Popping the top off, she dumped three little white pills in her hand. She wasn't stupid. She knew their power. _Why shouldn't I? Give me __one__ good reason._ Her skillful eyes scanned the room, coming to focus on a mini-fridge in the corner. She knew inside that mini-fridge lay the answer to her problem. A tiny bottle of vodka she had once stolen from Genovia I. Really it wasn't _that_ tiny, and Joseph had snagged it for her. He loved her when she was drunk.

_Perfect. _Clasping the pills in a fisted hand, she jumped up from her spot on the bed and moved silently across the room. The light from the mini-fridge lit the room where she and both of her husbands had spent so many nights. The nights with Joseph had been the ones she would always cherish the most.

With the bottle of vodka in one hand, and three powerful white pills in the other, she crossed back to her bed. Clarisse attempted wholeheartedly to open that bottle of vodka, but it was sealed too tightly. _Well, I can't really ask for help, can I? _The ex-queen drinking, let alone drinking to 'end it all', would not go over well. Mercifully the cap came loose. She was about to utter 'Finally' But that only made her think of him again. _I love him, lord, and you took him away from me, too. _

Clarisse flung her head back melodramatically and downed a swig of the clear liquid in the bottle. It stung as it went down, accompanied by a small white pill. As she lowered her head slowly, staring off into space, a few tears fell down her cheeks. She didn't know if they were tears of regret, or the tears of finality. She raised her head to do it once again, swallowing more confidently this time around. She was on to pill number five when her granddaughter came bursting into the room, holding a crying baby.

"Grandma, he won't stop! I've tried everything but . . . " She saw her grandmother holding a bottle in one hand and her other hand fisted tightly. Tears were streaming down her face in the dark of her bedroom. "Grandma? What are you doing?" Mia's tone changed, quickly as she handed the baby to Nicolas, who had followed her into her grandmother's room. He exited upon his wife's request, knowing help, or sleep, would not come soon. "Grandma, were you . . . ? Oh, Grandma . . . " She picked up the bottle of pills, reading their label and counting their contents. "How many?" She got no response as her ailing Grandmother laid back on her pillow, trying to block out the sound, as her head had suddenly started spinning. "How many did you take?"

"Five." She moaned, the light that was now filling the room from the hall being all too much for her aching head.

"Well that's four and a half too many." Mia, laid next to Clarisse, taking her hand. "Did you drink this too?" Clarisse nodded at the sight of the empty vodka bottle. She had been so close to salvation, so close to ending her suffering. At least that's the way she saw it. Mia rolled off the bed and went down the hall to Charlotte's room. Charlotte made a quick phone call, then came back to awkwardly join Clarisse in laying on the bed, to which the ex-queen remarked rather sarcastically 'Why don't we make it a party?'

The sound of sirens could be heard just outside the window. Clarisse rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head.

"No. . . I won't . . . let me die . . . just let me go . . . " The ex-queen had hit the lowest point in her life. There was no one left for her, no one left for her to love. She was lucky that her desperate pleas were inaudible to her very worried friend and granddaughter. She rolled back and looked at Charlotte through half moon eyes. "I won't go." She whispered softly. "I won't."

"You have to." Charlotte ordered. "Get up."

"No. . ."

"Yes." The assistant was finding her bravery. Clarisse once again shook her head. "I'll get Shades to carry you." She threatened.

"Go ahead." She came to find that Charlotte had not made an empty threat, as much as Shades had tried to resist.

- - -

The hospital was happy to welcome back queen Amelia when she came to visit her grandmother. The shouts of 'Viva Mia!' and 'Long live the Queen!' woke Philippe, much to the queen's dismay.

"Shh!" She yelled, gesturing to her now crying son. "Perfect."

"Mia, I'll take him, home, you don't need me here." Nicolas offered

"All right." Mia said reluctantly.

Unknown that her grandmother had stood at the very same elevator a few weeks earlier, tears of worry pouring down her face, Queen Mia pressed and _re_pressed the up button. "Come on" She muttered, pressing it yet again, and practically screaming as it 'dinged' and she ran inside. Who cared about decorum and 'queenliness' at a time like this?

She didn't.

She cared that her grandma was all right, and that she was never going to do this again. A queen never slides, never jingles and never crosses their legs in public. So what made her grandma think that queens drank vodka and overdosed? Especially a queen loved as much as she? Mia only knew that she must have been hurting more then _anyone _had let on. Something only someone like Joe could see. But it was _because of_ Joe that she was this way.

When the elevator reached the top, she ran to the nurse's station, speaking quickly in French, asking where the room was. Unfortunately, she was not allowed to go in, but spotted Charlotte in the waiting room, looking very worried. "Charlotte!"

"Oh, Queen Mia. I'm glad you made it. Where's Philippe?"

"With Nick."

"Oh."

"Charlotte, why do you think grandma tried to . . . " Mia trailed off, shuddering at the thought.

"She was very unhappy. Joseph was her only love."

"He_ is_ her only love. He's not dead, just forgetful." That was what she hated most. Everyone spoke of him as if he were dead.

"I know. But at the rate he's going he might as well be."

"Charlotte!" She scolded her aide.

"Well, he doesn't even remember your grandma's name. He hardly recognizes her now. You know how in love they were just last year. He's taken a fast decline, and it's very hard on Clarisse. God . . . she loves him _so much_!" Charlotte had tears in her eyes.

"You're calling her Clarisse?"

"She forces me to." Charlotte laughed a little at the sound of this.

"Sounds like grandma." Mia laughed. "I hope she'll be all right."

"She will." Charlotte wiped away the tears. "She will."

_A/N: Please don't hurt me cowers But review instead! I really appreciate it. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I was scared to post this chapter! Make me not scared! 45 reviews and counting! More then I've ever had! Thanks so much! I accept anonymous reviews!_


	10. Charlotte

Chapter 10 - Charlotte

"_Wrong or right _

_Be mine tonight_

_Harsh world be damned _

_We'll make a stand_

_Love can bind_

_Mine is blind_

_Others stray but _

_I won't walk away"_

_**Jewel - I Won't Walk Away**_

When she awoke, everything around her was fuzzy. She could barely hear the doctor's terse voices as they barked orders to the nurses. The faces were blurs of tan and white. The feeling coursing through her body was numbness. Cold.

"Clarisse?" A light was shone into her eye. As she thought about it, it must have been hours later. "Clarisse? Are you awake?" She groaned unpleasantly. She was very unsatisfied with herself at this moment. _I tried to kill myself, and I didn't even do that right.._

"You gave us quite a scare, your majesty."

_That was the idea..._ She thought. He throat felt swollen and pained, indicating that she had been intubated, and was restraining her voice.

"I just don't know, why you would. . .well it's not my business." The doctor continued, not caring that she couldn't reply.

_Right on_. He counted the beats of her pulse, as she rolled her eyes. _This isn't happening. You're dead. _Much to her dismay, denial was not helping.

"You have some visitors, I'm sure you'll want to see them." A nurse entered the room with Charlotte and Mia in tow. Before she could finish, they were at Clarisse's side.

_Perfect. Off to an insane asylum for me! I'm officially crazy now._ _That's where they'll put me. Where there's no pills, and no way out. _Although, technically, the door to freedom had officially shut for the ex-queen.

"Grandma!"

"Clarisse!" Charlotte shouted at the same time.

"We're so glad you are all right." Mia said.

"Yes, we are." The aide echoed. Clarisse raised her hand in reply, indicating for pen and paper, which Charlotte soon handed her.

_Go away. _She wrote.

"Wha...why? Grandma. We were so worried about you."

_You should have let me go._

"What? Left you to...die?" Charlotte asked sarcastically. "That would have gone over well with the press."

_I don't care about the damn press. You would have found a way to cover it up._

"Cover up your suicide? How?"

_Old age. But it's over now, and you failed me, Charlotte. Mia, dear, how's Philippe? _Charlotte read over the note and dropped it silently to her lap, a tear falling down her cheek.

"He's fine, grandma. Why'd you yel.._write at_ Charlotte? You upset her." Clarisse looked up to find out that Charlotte had left the room.

_Maybe I was a little harsh, but Mia, I am so lost now. _She scrawled slowly.

"Without Joe?" Clarisse didn't respond. She looked away and out the window. "Grandma" Mia couldn't think of encouraging words to say.

_How is he?_

"They called last night to say that he was repeating 'June 29'. Do you know why?"

_Our wedding date. June 29. Mia, he remembers._

"That's great, Grandma! Listen, I have to go, poor Nick's at home with the baby and everything. But I'm so glad you're okay." Mia rose from her spot where she had been kneeling.

_I'm not okay, Mia, I'll never be okay again. _Clarisse tossed the note at her. Queen Mia just shook her head and walked away.

- - -

"Charlotte?" The young woman sat with her back turned in the waiting room, her cheeks tear stained.

"Oh... Your majesty. Would you like me to call a car?" She turned and wiped the last remaining tears from her face. The one thing Charlotte thrived on was doing things right. Pleasing people, particularly the people that she worked for. Never failing to do the things she was paid to be, and actually quite enjoyed, doing

"No...no Charlotte."Mia placed a hand on her back, and spoke in a soothing voice. "Grandma didn't mean it. She's really confused and lost right now. She's learning how to be human." To this, Charlotte had to giggle.

"You really think she didn't mean it?" She had never known Clarisse to not mean what she had said.

"I really do. Now lets get you home. Take the rest of the day off. Spend it with 'you-know-who'" Charlotte blushed. It was true that someone close to her had the day off today as well.

- - -

"All right Clarisse, it's time for your medication." A cheery nurse opened the blinds and toddled over the bed.

"A little ironic isn't it?"

"What is, dear?" The nurse asked while pouring a glass of water.

"Me taking medication. I mean, that's why I'm here, right?"

"It's not my business to say." Clarisse rolled her eyes.

"Why can't people just speak their minds?"

"I'll be back later to check on you."

"Whatever." Clarisse snapped, adapting one of her grand-daughters favorite sayings at 15.

- - -

"Mia?" Nicolas asked when he saw his wife walk slowly into the room. "Are you all right?"

"No." He ran to hold his wife in his arms. "What if you forget me?"

"I could never forget you."

"How do you know?"

"I love you that much." Mia looked up at him.

"No! Nicolas! I'm serious. What if one of us gets dementia."

"Then we'll deal with it then, and make however long our time together is the best it can be."

"Thank you."

"No problem." He kissed her softly, hearing their baby cry from the next room.

"I'll get him. You should sleep, my darling."

"Ok." Mia sniffed. "Nicolas?"

"Yea?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too." He shut off the light and moved into the next room to feed his son.

- - -

"Shades?" Charlotte found him in the garden, sitting on a bench. "What are you doing?" She was nervous, and it showed.

"Oh, Charlotte. Come. Sit." He gestured to the spot beside himself.

"All right." For a while they sat, looking off into the distance, watching the water in the fountain. Finally Shades spoke, never taking his eyes off the water.

"I was just thinking." Before waiting for her reply he continued. "I was thinking about Joe. It's kind of a defining moment, one of those change your life things. Seeing him so weak, and unable to love the ones he loves, it's just. . ." Before he could finish, Charlotte had pressed her lips to his. They had spent many a night out in the garden, much as they were now, talking and sharing their thoughts. But they had never kissed. At a ball they had danced, but this was beyond belief for Charlotte. When they parted she giggled at the shocked look on his face. He had taken his 'shades' off, and his blue eyes were staring back at her in disbelief.

"I'm sorry. But I've been thinking, too. Thinking that I don't want to miss my chance."

"I. . .I have no problem with that." He stuttered, leaning in to kiss her himself this time.

"I'm so glad."

"Wait. Are you working right now?" He had never known her to take a break.

"No, Queen Mia gave me the night off."

"The whole night?" He asked suggestively.

"Yes...oh...Shades!" She playfully hit him on the arm after understanding.

"What? It was just an idea." He whispered into her ear, kissing her neck.

"Hmm..." She leaned into him. "A very good one."

"Really?" He whispered, almost afraid of her answer.

"Only if it is to you." She spoke quietly back, meeting his gaze with a soft one of her own.

"Took the words right out of my mouth." He kissed her gently and took her hand. "Your place or mine?" She laughed softly.

"You've always wanted to say that haven't you?"

"Yes." He kissed her head, smiling. _"Well?"_

"Yours." She squeezed his hand as they walked inside.


	11. Fairy Tales

Chapter 11 - Fairy Tales

- - -

**fairy tale** - noun 1. a fairy story. 2. magical or idealized:_ a fairy-tale romance._

- - -

Clarisse was quite angry at the situation at hand. She had no one come to visit her, not that she particularly cared for visitors, and no reason to live. Knowing that she had people who wanted to save her, broke her up inside, adding to the horrible depression she had fallen into.

As she stared at the ceiling in her horrible sunny yellow hospital room, she had absolutely nothing to do but think. Think about how she had missed out spending the rest of her life with the man she loved so much. Think about Joe not knowing where he was, and worst of all, who she was. Now that she was stuck here (for 'observation' they told her), she couldn't even visit him.

"Five years." She whispered to the nurse who had entered the room.

"Excuse me?" The nurse had an Oklahoma accent, which was very odd in Genovia.

"Five lousy years." Clarisse repeated, louder this time.

"I don't understand."

"I got five years with the man of my dreams. The only man I ever really loved."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Oh, dear. You don't know the half of it."

"I. . ." The nurse stuttered as Clarisse was crying and yelling hysterically.

"Want to know what else is funny? I tried to kill myself, because living without him near me is too hard. In fact, it's next too impossible. For _me_. I spent almost _forty _years with a man I didn't love, had his children and I can't even live without love now. I waited too damn long for him, that's the problem. And then this happens, and I can't even get out. It's because of that stupid doctor having to be heroic and save me. Where's Kevorkian when you need him?" The nurse was terrified. "I just wanted to get out."

"That's never the answe..."

"Don't tell me what the answer is. I know what the answer is. I'm seventy, and apparently, I have a lot to live for!" Clarisse hadn't noticed her granddaughter standing at the door for the first time in two days.

"Grandma!" Mia scolded, placing her hands on the shoulders of the nurse. "Forgive her."

"Your majesty!" The nurse bowed. "Of course, it's no trouble at all." She ran out quickly, Mia sitting in the chair by Clarisse's bed.

"Mia. Darling, how are you?" Mia just shook her head. "Ok...let me tell you a story."

"What?"

"Listen now, I have an anecdote for you." Clarisse tried to smile as she thought back.

"_Your majesty, it's quite cold out here. Would you please come back inside?"_

"_Joseph, either you are worried about me, or don't want to be forced to sit outside any longer."_

"_Both." This made her giggle, a beautiful sight to Joe. For a woman who had just lost her husband two months ago, she sure did sparkle. She was just on the edge of fifty-nine, approaching sixty. He was a year her senior._

"_Seriously, though, come inside, Clarisse. It's freezing."_

"_I'll just be a minute. Come sit with me."_

"_But it's cold!" He protested, knowing the minute he refused , she would put on her face. The face that must have gotten her lots of things in parliament, the face that begged. With her beautiful blue eyes wide, her lips slightly pushed out in a pouty fashion, she knew should could get anything out of her head of security. "Fine." He was unable to resist, completely at her power._

"_Are you shivering?" She laughed, looking at him softly in the pale moonlight. "Here." The blanket she had been holding around herself was now transformed into a blanket for two, wrapped around both their shoulders. He felt strange being this close to her. Close enough to feel her hot breath on his neck. Close enough to touch her. _

_She was still in mourning. Off-limits. She hadn't taken off her ring, she said it was her duty to her country to remain in mourning for at least six-months. But she hated it. Black was not becoming on a woman with such a colorful personality. _

"_Cla...risse." Joe chattered, trying to sound wistful. He was enjoying looking at her, well, at least looking at the side of her face._

_Until she turned._

_They were inches away from each other. A breath or two was all that separated them from what was meant to be._

"_Yes?" She whispered, the steam from her breath blanketing his face._

"_What are you thinking about?" She was afraid to enter the world of the question, afraid to let him know._

"_I was..." She paused, almost ready to say it. "You."_

"_Wh...at?" Joe barely got his sentence out before the gap between them was closed, their lips in an embrace that could only make them warmer. _

"_Oh...I'm sorry, I...I shouldn't have...oh..." Clarisse sputtered, trying to get away, before realizing the blanket kept them close._

"_No! No." He reached and cupped her cheek. "It wasn't wrong." If he only said it aloud, maybe she would change her mind, maybe he could change his own. He knew it was wrong, she was the queen. The queen that was in mourning._

"_It was, Joseph. Excuse me." She ripped the blanket off herself, leaving her side in a heap on the ground. Joseph watched her run away, realizing then that she may have been a little tipsy. _

"Your first kiss?" Mia asked Clarisse when she had finished.

"Hmm...The first of many." She laughed. "I kept saying how wrong it was, but it just kept happening."

"Nice." Mia giggled, glad her grandma was laughing. "Tell me another one." She didn't really want to know, but if it made Clarisse happy, it was worth it.

"Alright."

"_They had the same idea I had, but now the garden is occupied" Clarisse laughed as they danced around the room, finally getting a public dance together after so many years. "How about the other balcony?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively._

"_What...oh!" Clarisse giggled like a teenager. "That balcony." He nodded and walked off at the end of the song, with Clarisse following him. He waved off the guards and gingerly reached for her hand. As scared as she was, she let him take it, and he rose it to his mouth, kissing it lightly through her white glove. She looked shocked, but knew this was only the beginning. They reached her room and she opened the door softly, leading Joe by his hand to the balcony. The garden was lit up beautifully, the fountains flowing._

"_Clarisse."_

"_Joseph." _

"_I have waited so long for a true moment alone with you. Where you are mine."_

"_I am yours." She repeated, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Take me." She whispered against his mouth as they kissed, hearing fireworks going off on the other side of the consulate. _

"_Yes, ma'am." He mocked, grabbing one hand and pulling the glove off, never breaking the contact with her eyes. He pulled slowly, then discarded the piece of silk on the ground, followed by the other one, capturing her lips in another kiss._

"Stop!" Mia held out her hand to emphasize her point. "So you mean to tell me that while I was celebrating my last moments of freedom you were..." She trailed off. Thinking back to that night. "So that's where you went!" Clarisse laughed slightly.

"Yes."

"I didn't know you had it in you."

"Me neither." He voice was starting to lose it's color.

"Those are wonderful stories grandma."

"Just fairy tales now." She whispered.

- - -

_A/N: I know, I know, I said occupied_. _Don't yell at me, I didn't want to mess up the other word. I am of one language, and it doesn't look promising for me to become bilingual. _


	12. Together Again

Chapter 12 - Together Again

"_Together again_

_All my tears have stopped falling_

_Those long lonely nights_

_Are now at an end_

_The key to my heart_

_You hold in your hand_

_Nothing else matters now_

'_cause we're together again_"

_**Together Again - Buck Owens**_

She was staring out the window of the limousine, watching the world fly by. The beautiful countryside of her beloved homeland was a blur as they coasted down the highway. The hospital had released her on the condition she be monitored twenty-four hours a day. She was not pleased with this, but agreed. Just to be home and out of that ugly yellow room.

The various security guards in the castle would take shifts, watching her night and day. She requested that Charlotte also take a shift, just so she would actually have someone to talk to. Clarisse could recall a time, long ago, when she had been monitored personally by Joseph, the man that had now unknowingly caused her so much pain. It was a time when she was married to Rupert, and a time when she was so in love with her head of security.

Rupert was away on business, and had flown to America for just over a week. A fire had caused a mass power outage the day after he left. The blanket of darkness had fallen over the small but proud country of Genovia, affecting every home, every business, and not discriminating against the palace. A large generator ran the lights and freezers, but was not powerful enough to run the security cameras. Clarisse chose Joseph as the guard to watch her until the power came back on, the palace paying him overtime to stay overnight.

She wouldn't have trusted anyone else to sit by her bed overnight and stare at her until early morning, making sure no harm came to her. Being a live security camera. Rupert didn't like the idea, he knew of Joe's feelings for his wife, even if she didn't, but agreed so that his wife would feel comfortable with a friend at her side.

The head of security sat in a chair not an inch more or less than ten feet from her bed, and kept a vigil throughout the entire night. He had slept during the day, so as to make sure he didn't fall asleep. In the moonlit room he could see the woman he held so dear in his heart, watching her toss and turn and groan through what was obviously a very gripping nightmare. He could only imagine what the bad dream was about. It tortured him to know he could do absolutely nothing. So he sat, and he watched with a painful grimace. He watched her shake and cry, just wishing he could hold her. Calm her fears. But he couldn't wake her up, he couldn't even touch her, for fear it would be deemed inappropriate.

Finally with a last cry of anguish, she sprang up, pulling the silken sheets with her. Wanting desperately to do something, he stood up from his spot in the chair ten feet from her bed, whispering her name through the darkness. She breathed heavily, calling back to him, asking him, almost begging him to come to her, to hold her close, to ease her pain. Joe knew it was wrong, that he shouldn't even touch her, he shouldn't be staring at her so intently. But he went to her.

He climbed warily onto her bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. For what seemed like eternity they sat in her bed, the covers wrapped wildly around them both, Joseph drawing lazy circles on her bare thigh, whispering words of comfort. When they lay back, her head fell to a perfect spot on his chest, her tears wetting his black shirt, and they fell asleep. He tried his best to stay awake, trying to savor the moment with his angel in his arms at last, but the concoction of the darkness, her hand warm in his and the sweet smell of her hair sang a lullaby that instantly knocked him out.

No one had ever found out about the events of that night, not that anything had really happened, but it was a memory that Clarisse held dear in her mind. A memory that flooded back when they had danced in San Francisco, a memory that came back the night of their wedding, a memory that came back now, when she sat lonely in the back of a limousine, staring at the countryside. She felt fortunate to have these memories, but couldn't help wishing she could make more of them now.

The limo pulled to an abrupt stop, throwing the ex-queen out of her seat, and her thoughts, with a shout. The driver apologized in a slight accent. For a second Clarisse could have sworn it was Joseph, and gasped. The driver turned around to ask her what was the matter, and she waved him off, telling him that she was getting old and tending to imagine things. He shrugged and got out to open the door, revealing Charlotte holding a clipboard and looking almost frightened of Clarisse for the first time in her life. She welcomed Clarisse back, holding out her hand to help her out of the vehicle, and Clarisse used the steady hand to pull her weakened self up. Then she surprised everyone around by hugging Charlotte and apologizing profusely, muttering something about 'Life's too short'. Charlotte agreed and showed the queen inside.

- - -

Life moved slowly for Clarisse these days. Since she'd been home from the hospital she had slept, ate and tried to strike up a conversation with the guards. The problem was that none of them was Joseph. All of them would throw themselves in front of a bullet for her, sure, but none of them would mean it. No guard in the palace would do it out of love. Not one of the guards could twirl her on the dance floor and make her melt completely. None of them could kiss her pain away.

That was all she thought about. She could look at anything or anyone and compare it to Joseph, the old Joe. The man that she loved so thoroughly. It tore her apart, and put her deeper into the black hole that had become her mind.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to visit him. She begged Charlotte to let her go, even threatening to leave and drive herself, but Charlotte would not hear of it. Joe had been progressively getting worse, and both of the couple's doctors had strongly warned against a visit. However, being an ex-queen had its advantages, and Clarisse finally got her way. So with a radio, a black dress and a smile she entered Joe's room the next day.

"Who are you?"

"Your wife." Clarisse pressed play on her radio, producing a wonderful Spanish beat. He eyed her warily, his eyebrows going up when she swayed alone in the middle of his sunny nursing home room. He was frail and fragile, tired and pale, but somehow he worked up the strength to stand up and move across the room, to stand near her and watch her sway.

"Can I join you?" He asked, her nod being the only reply. He stepped forward, taking her outstretched hands. He tried to match her beat, to sway at the same pace, finally falling into a rhythm all their own. Clarisse's heart skipped a beat. They were together again, and they were dancing. "I love you, Clarisse." He whispered in her ear. She knew that it came from deep inside, that he may have not even realized he said it, but it was something.

"I love you, too."

_a/n: Had you going with the song and the title? Sorry about that. They're not really 'together again . . . '_

_a/n two: I wanted to try and do this chapter with very little dialogue, to expend my writing knowledge, so what do you think? Do you like this version (Less dialogue) or more dialogue? Also, look out for my favorite piece of writing I have ever completed, 'Mr. Cellophane.'_


	13. You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This

_A/n: I was informed that Charlotte and Shades were brother and sister. It is true that Kathleen Marshall and Scott Marshall are related, yes, but the characters are not. So I resume my story._ _Also, guess what? __**I screwed up. **__As many times as I've seen PD, I forgot that it does mention when Rupert died. (Can you tell I'm watching it as I am writing this?) So I messed up. All my flashbacks mentioning Rupert's death have now been deemed AU, with his death being like five or 10 years before they really would have been. (This being my pathetic excuse for being creative...)_

Chapter 13 - You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This

"_You shouldn't kiss me like this_

_Unless you mean it like that_

'_Cuz I'll just close my eyes_

_And I won't know where I'm at_

_We'll get lost on this dance floor_

_Spinning around, and around and around_

_They're all watching us now, they think we're falling in love_

_They'll never believe we're just friends"_

_**Toby Keith - You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This**_

The song they were swaying gently to ended, taking Joe's stamina with it. He was suddenly as tired, weary, and fidgety as he had been before.

"Clarisse?" She didn't reply as she helped him into a chair. She suddenly regretted her decision. She shouldn't have come, she could feel where this was going. That he would soon forget her, and everyone else. That he would not be Joseph in just a matter of time. "Darling, why are you sad?" He reached up to touch her cheek softly.

"Because you forgot me, Joseph. You promised you wouldn't."

"Oh, my dear Clarisse, I have not forgotten you, not deep down. This disease has taken over my brain, not my heart. I love you." He moved to grab her hand and hold it in his. Clarisse gasped unnoticeably. The warm and firm hand that had once held her all night long, was now cold and loose, almost unable to hold her at all.

"You know? You remember?" He nodded. "I love you, too." She shook as she lowered her aching lips to his, kissing him more gently then she had ever thought possible. As they separated, he settled into a puzzled look on his face and threw her hand from his.

"Do I know you?"

"Yes. But I'm going now." With that she winked at him and walked out of the room, the nurse looking at her scornfully. "He remembers." Clarisse whispered to her. The nurse just shook her head.

"Come here." The nurse was bossy and demanding.

"Excuse me?"

"Sit down here. Let's have a chat."

"Wha . . . "

"Just sit down." Clarisse sat on the rickety old chair, with the nurse facing her.

"I've seen a million of your type. The lonely wife, the husband in denial, the daughter who thinks daddy remembers her, the son who won't let mommy go. Let me tell you this. It will get worse, and it won't get better. So stop torturing yourself. Coming around here thinking that he will remember you every time he sees you, even if it's just for five minutes. Get on with your life. Cope. Don't look for ways to jog their memory. Live with it. Pray about it."

"I will not stand to be talked to like that. I am . . . "

"I know who you are. But God doesn't make exceptions, honey, just because you were queen." The nurse patted her on the arm and walked away. Clarisse turned around to say something else, but to her surprise, the nurse had disappeared.

- - -

Clarisse was sitting on her window seat, reading a book that Joseph had asked her to read months ago. She now regretted telling him 'no' as it was a very good book.

"Olivia, you've been standing there for twenty minutes, what is it dear?"

"Well, your highness, I found this on the floor a few weeks ago, and I am embarrassed to say I read it." She hung her head, and Clarisse nodded. "I know it was wrong, but I was waiting for the right time to give it to you . . . " Olivia handed Clarisse a crumpled up piece of paper. It had been three weeks since Clarisse had tried to dispose of herself, and she had finally convinced everyone to leave her alone. Olivia bowed out, and the piece of paper unwrinkled with the skill of Clarisse's tired hands.

_My Dearest Clarisse,_

_The doctors tell me that I have been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. But, you already know that. I am expected to soon forget all the ones I love. I cannot imagine forgetting you. For years I have worked at the palace, and I had watched you from afar, never getting close enough to tell you how I feel . . . _

Tears fell from her eyes as she read the rest of the note. Her eyes refocused finally on the last lines:

_I love you, and I always will,_

_Joseph_

How could he have not given her this . . . treasure . . . to hold onto? This was a glimmer of hope, a sparkle of light shining through in her world of darkness. This letter was the tangible evidence that they had shared something very real. Something so powerful no disease in the world could take it away. She knew in her heart that he remembered. Their souls shared a connection so deep that it would be impossible to forget it.

"Joseph . . . Why didn't you give me this?" Clarisse whispered, holding the tear-stained letter to her chest and lying down curled up on the window seat. It would be another long night.

- - -

_It was the first time they had danced in public. The Christmas ball had always been a big event in Genovia, all the nobles and dignitaries being invited. The feel in the air was cheery, even though it was the first Christmas without the king (May he rest in peace). To Joseph, the queen had never looked so ravishing, so beautiful and sultry at the same time. He knew these thoughts shouldn't even be crossing his mind, after all she was the queen and very far above him in status. But with the dark-blue velvet gown framing her figure in the dim lights, and the soft music making her sway to the beat, he had to ask. It took him almost all night to work up the courage to speak to the woman that held his heart. Finally his bravery kicked in, and he asked her to dance. She had looked shocked, but had agreed to dance with him. _

_The music filled his soul as he looked into her gorgeous blue eyes. They were sparkling with tears. Tears that had almost seemed permanent the last seven months without her best friend, tears that he wished he could make go away. His hand hovered over her hip, a tingle running through him every time the tough flesh brushed against the soft of her midnight blue velvet dress. He whispered something in her ear, and it caused one of the tears to fall unnoticed out of her eye._

"_Would you mind . . . if I kissed you?" Rupert had often kissed her in public, but this was different. The heat of the moment had caught him, on a good day he would never say anything like this. On a good day he wouldn't even touch her. But now he was holding her gloved hand in his, still able to feel its warmth. The tear had fallen simply because she had never felt so __**cared for **__in her life. No one had ever cared enough to ask her if he could claim her heart. No one had ever had the courtesy to ask to kiss her. She knew there was no way she could say no. Whether he knew it or not she cared for Joe, immensely. So she nodded the nod that changed their life. Clarisse had forgotten that they had an audience. Everything around her had melted, just leaving her in Joseph's willing arms._

"_All right." He whispered into her lips as his came crashing down upon them. The kiss was short and loving, for Joe had not forgotten about the people around them, who let out a quiet gasp, and then went on talking about what they had just witnessed. "Your majesty?" Tears were pouring down her face. Joseph ushered her off the dance floor and onto the balcony, where privacy was a little more abundant. He placed a gentle hand on her cheek, wiping the wetness off her face with his thumbs. "Darling?"_

"_Oh! I'm so sorry. It's just . . . " She collapsed in his arms, holding on to him for dear life, her falling teardrops wetting his shirt. "No one has ever cared that much, Joseph. No one has ever been so loving. It's . . . unnerving!" She sniffled and smiled at him. "I'm being ridiculous."_

"_No, Clarisse." She raised her eyebrows at the mention of her name. "You're being human."_

"_What does that mean?" She stiffened._

"_You're always a queen. First and foremost a queen. Always giving in to your 'duty'. But there's a different feel about you tonight, and it's so . . . if I may . . . attractive." She dropped her chin, blushing, and Joseph grabbed it lightly, pulling it up so she was looking him in the eye. After a few moments of eye contact, they kissed again. This time the kiss was more full of passion then any kiss that either had felt. It caused Clarisse to utter a small moan from her throat, making Joe laughed softly as he wrapped his arms around her for another loving kiss._

_**A/N: Well that last part was going to be a oneshot but it wasn't long enough. So I put it here. Think of it as a bonus . . . ? Review? Please? THANK YOU!! SO MUCH FOR REVIEWING!!! It makes me all happy inside my twisted mind!**_


	14. Joe

**Chapter 14 - Joe**

- - -

**Acceptance** - _[n._ the mental attitude that something is believable and should be accepted as true;

- - -

"Well, Mr. Saporta, it's a great day! Would you like to come out for a walk?" The nurse was making his bed as Joe sat in a chair staring out the window and wringing his hands repetitively.

"No."

"All right. Let me know if you change your mind." The nurse made a move to walk out the door, but Joe called to her softly, beckoning her back, and asking her to sit next to him.

"Can I tell you a story?"

"Sure!" The overly cheery nurse Barbara sat down and lent an ear to her Alzheimer's patient.

"My wife, Clarisse, before we married, tended to call on me for support. We never thought about a relationship, though we were friends for a long time.

It was a normal night. . ."

_She sent him a rolled piece of paper, with a note that read 'Meet me in my suite at eight." It shocked him. He had wondered why she had left the ball so early, a mere hour into it, but when he received the note he understood. She had a plan._

_He followed her orders and showed up at her door, a bottle of wine in tow. He knew for a fact she was drunk when she opened the door, he could smell it on her breath. It wasn't normal for her, but since her husband had passed away a short while ago she frequented drinking._ _Tonight it seemed it was wore than the others._

"_Joseph. I'm so glad you came."_

"_I wouldn't dare stand you up, darling. What can I help you with?" Before he had finished his sentence, he felt lips crashing down on his own. "Clarisse. No, sweetie, you are not yourself." He pulled away, taking in her image. Her tousled hair, her short lacy nightgown, her make-up free face. The rosy cheeks he so admired were tear stained._

"_Yes, yes I am. Please...Joseph.." He knew she wouldn't remember this in the morning, but still felt a slight tugging telling him it was wrong..._

"I . . . I took advantage of the queen that night. " He paused and looked around, reflecting on the story. "I never forgave myself, but she forgave me! Doesn't that show you what kind of woman she is? She was so wonderful, and now she doesn't even visit me. She doesn't even visit!" Joe's voice trailed off.

"Oh but she does! Almost everyday!" The nurse squealed, knowing how much the former queen was hurting.

"Really? How come I don't remember?" Joe looked so confused. Barbara was sad to tell him, but knew it had to be done.

"You have a disease. It makes you forget."

"Alz..." Joe couldn't finish.

"Yes."

"So I don't remember the only woman I ever loved when she comes to visit me?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Oh, god! My Clarisse, my darling Clarisse, she must be hurting so badly. Oh, will you tell her I love her? Please?"

"Of course. Get some sleep, Mr. Saporta."

"Call me Joe."

"Sure."

- - -

The phone rang, making Clarisse almost jump out of her skin. She had fallen asleep at her desk again. She immersed herself in any kind of work that Mia would give her, trying to keep herself out of the depression she so desperately hated. She answered the call, then hung up, realizing it was someone she didn't want to talk to anyway.

It had been eight months since Joseph had started acting strangely, six months since Joseph's diagnoses, five since Phillipe had been born, and four since Clarisse had attempted to kill herself.

And she told herself it was all ok.

That she was fine.

But in reality? She'd try it again. She would once again attempt to forget. Try once more to end her suffering. She would try harder this time. But she couldn't do that to Mia. She couldn't do that to her great-grandson. Not that it would make a difference to him.

One anniversary that she had forgotten in her thoughts, it had been three months since Charlotte and Shades became inseparable.

And it made her want to scream.

She wanted to warn them, never to fall in love, never to form an attachment. To become cold and calloused. Much like she was before she met the love of her life. It was sickening to see the couple. The way they kissed in public, always held hands and were perfect for each-other. Clarisse couldn't stand it.

The ex-queen reached her hand into the drawer in her desk and pulled out a pamphlet. She silently flipped through it, turning to the back and focusing in on the address. With a swift motion she picked up the phone and dialed it.

"Charlotte, get the car for six. And don't let me change my mind...please?" Charlotte agreed, not bothering to ask what for. Hopefully it was a good thing.

- - -

The support group met at six thirty every night. Trying to help spouse, lovers, friends, daughters, sons and patients to deal with the diseases so affecting their lives. Clarisse was embarrassed walking in, seeing many people standing around and talking like they had know each-other for years. They were sharing stories and updates of their spouses, parents and selves and their struggle with a disease powerful enough to take the lives of those not even diagnosed. It was at this moment she again wished she had died.

Her eyes scanned the room, noticing all the faces now looking in her direction, all the whispers circulating. The cover of the _Genovian Inquisitor _had flashed headlines of her suicide attempt. Perhaps being their first true story about her in at least ten years. Half of Genovia received that magazine by mail, and a third of those citizens believed everything they read. It seemed like that part of Genovia stared back at her now. Half of their eyes were accusing, half sympathetic. A group leader stepped forward and welcomed her to the group, inviting her and the rest of the group to sit.

It wasn't as if she didn't want to listen, it was just that she was having trouble doing so. So when others were sharing their names, and the names of those around them that had alzheimer's or dementia, she didn't hear a word they said. The person to the right of her tapped her on the shoulder. She could tell the entire group wondered why she was there. Joe's disease was a well kept secret, to his request.

"Your highness, why are you here?" The woman spoke softly in french. Clarisse looked up. The girl sounded as if she had spoken this line many times before, trying to get her to respond.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I. . .my husband, Joseph. He's forgotten me, and I'm here to come to terms with that. I wasn't sure that I could do it on my own." She swallowed hard and looked into the faces of the women and men around her. She wondered how long they had been attending this group, how many of them had hit bottom as hard as she had.

"Alright, good start." The group leader said crisply and pointed to the next person, who delivered a speech so crisp and polished Clarisse knew they had been coming here for longer then they would probably like to admit. She sat and tried to listen as the circle of introductions finished. She looked from the floor to the ceiling while hearing heartbreaking stories of mothers throwing fits, and fathers running off without a clue where they were going. When the meeting ended she was invited back, and smiled warmly at the woman who had extended the invitation.

"Thank you. But I don't think I can do this again. At least not in this mass of people."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, everyone's stories seem to be worse then mine, but even as I hear them, I think 'they can't possibly be affected the way I am'. I mean, for god's sake I tried to kill myself. . ."

"So it's true?" The woman's eyes had widened.

"Well, I'll admit it wasn't exactly a shining moment, but yes."

"We'll miss you next week then." The woman place a hand on the ex- queen's arm..

"Thank you." Clarisse squeezed her hand lightly, knowing she would never come back to this place.


	15. Record Lows

_Chapter 15 - Record lows_

"_Falling out of love and back into your life_

_Pulling your heart out from under the knife_

_Closing the door on all the dreams you used to know_

_Falling out of love and back on your feet_

_Turning away from that dead end street_

_Finding out that nothing feels as good as letting go"_

_**Falling Out of Love - Reba McEntire**_

She received a call on Monday telling her that her life was soon to fall apart. The doctor phoned her to tell her Joseph had taken a turn for the worse, and was now unwilling to leave his bed. It wasn't that he couldn't. It was that he didn't want to. So the doctor asked her to come down to the home and try to cheer him up.

But when she tapped him on the shoulder he yelled and screamed at her to get out. To leave him alone. To let him die. She walked out of the room without even continuing to try. She was through hoping he would come around. It hurt her to see him in a depressed state, but she knew it wouldn't help for her to stick around.

So, on Tuesday, she sat in her room, uncharacteristically staring at the ceiling with her feet upon the desk. She couldn't recall a time when that desk was so empty. All of the paperwork she had been doing was now Mia's responsibly, now that Philippe was nine months old and sleeping through the night. So Clarisse sat and pondered what her next move would be. Would she move away from the castle? Get her own house? Would she stay and just watch her life waste away? There was no point in meeting someone new. She hadn't even intended to do so after Rupert had died. Of course until Joseph showed up.

She thought about the old adage, 'It's better to have loved and lost to have never loved at all.'

"Not true." She whispered, twirling a pen in her hand. "Not true." To her, it wasn't worth the heartbreak. It wasn't worth what she had gone through to get him, then to lose it in a matter of months.

On Wednesday she babysat her grandson. Not that a nanny couldn't be hired of course, but it was Clarisse's idea. She wanted to get to know the bubbly baby who would one day be king if he so wished.

She sat on the couch watching him play on the floor, crawling around and almost saying his first word, which came out something like "Moo-Ma" She was happy to be watching him, he made her smile. She had always adored children, unhappy that she had no time for them.

On Thursday she had a lunch date with the prime minister, and she handled it as she always had, with poise and elegance and grace coming from every pore on her body. She listened to the state of her country, as they dined on salad and salmon.

But now it was Friday. And she was looking forward to a nice relaxing walk through the gardens. She picked from her closet a strawberry a pink suit, like she had worn when she and Joseph had gone to see the apple blossoms. But today there would be no one for her to walk with, no kisses at the conclusion of the trail. There would be no soft spring breeze, as it was quite cold outside now. Christmas had come and gone two months ago, and Clarisse still hated the fact that she had spent it without Joseph. She hated the fact it had been two months since her last visit (If you didn't count Monday). She hated the fact that he hadn't remembered her for two months.

As she stepped into the cold air, she waved off Charlotte, who attempted to stop her from going outside in the wintery weather. She was ready to face her fears, to walk in the garden without the man she had walked with for twenty years. As she walked, she recalled the night of their wedding. How nervous she had been, for no reason at all. Of course they had made love before. Many times before. A few times she couldn't remember because she had been so intoxicated. Joe loved her drunk. But that was the thing, he loved her any way. Drunk, sober, in control, as a nervous wreck. The latter was what she was that night.

_She stared at herself in the mirror, examining her face. She had washed all her make up off, he had never seen her make-up free. But why should she be nervous? She was queen, bigger things than this had happened to her. On her first wedding night she had made love to a total stranger. Now she was with a man she loved, and she was terrified. As she wrapped her robe around herself, she became aware of how old she really was. What if she got . . . tired? Her breathing sped up, but she used one of her patented techniques for stopping that inconvenience._

"_Clarisse?" He had called into the bathroom, she knew he was wondering why it took so long to prepare yourself for making love. "Darling?" He was still in shock over the sudden marriage. She walked into the room and watched as his eyes widened. "You look beautiful." He whispered, taking her hand and pulling her into his arms. He kissed her forehead softly. _

"_Thank you."_

"_I love you, Clarisse."_

"_I love you, too, Joseph." She pressed herself closer and kissed him passionately. "I'm sorry I didn't say yes sooner."_

"_It doesn't matter now, my dear. Because you are mine."_

"_I am yours." She repeated, wrapping her arms around his neck_. _Her feet lost contact with the ground as he lifted her and carried her to the bed._

It would always be a memory she cherished, even now as she looked out over a half-frozen pond. It had dipped to record lows in Genovia, and she had never seen the pond frozen before now. The weather was gloomy and dismal. But somehow she felt light hearted, as if a burden had been lifted as she watched pieces of ice float in the pond, propelled by the gusting wind.

"I miss you, Joseph." She spoke softly, sitting on a bench. From the bench she could reach and touch the watcher in the manmade pond. As she did, she felt her fingertips freeze to the bone. "I love you." She heard footsteps behind her, and turned to see Charlotte looking at her.

"Your majesty." Charlotte greeted.

"Oh! Charlotte, sit, please." Charlotte shook her head, her hands held in close to her body, her face bunched up as if she were holding back tears, her eyes grey and grim.

"No. Thank you."

"All right. Is something wrong?"

"I think you should come inside, Clarisse." The ex-queen knew this couldn't be good, Charlotte had never used her first name without prompting.

"What for? I'm really not cold." She smiled her regal smile, her eyes still bright.

"Please?"

"All right, if you insist."

"I do."

"Charlotte you really should have worn a coat, it's thirty degrees outside."

"I know. I just . . . rushed out here." They walked slowly, until they finally reached the palace doors. Clarisse could see Mia, who looked sympathetically at her grandma, but soon turned away. She knew Clarisse didn't know yet, and didn't want her to catch on too quickly. Charlotte regretted having to be the one to do this, having to be the one to break her employer, and friend's, heart. But once in the confines of her majesty's suite, Charlotte sat her down, looked her in the eyes and spoke plainly.


	16. Goodbye

Chapter 16 - Goodbye

"_I wonder where you are_

_And if the pain ends when you die_

_And I wonder if there was_

_Some better way to say goodbye"_

_**Goodbye - Martina McBride**_

All she saw was black. From the roses on the tables to every garment in the building, she saw black. In her memories sat a man clad in black from head to toe, with a smile to knock out her heart, a touch to set her on fire, and a love to hold her tight. Everything down to the veil over her head was colored black.

A black box, with six gold locks traveled by her, three men on each side wearing the day's signature color carried it, half of them with tears in their eyes. This church that held so many memories for Clarisse was now cursed forever. Even as they set the casket down on the pedestals by the altar, she stared straight forward. In the moment, it was the end of her Camelot. She was Mrs. Jacqueline Kennedy, holding the hand of a little boy who just didn't understand. Except her husband wasn't assassinated in her arms, and the hand she was holding was her completely grown granddaughter, who understood perfectly well what was going on.

Six white horses came to take the casket away at the end of the service. But the ex-queen did not cry. She wouldn't let the public see her in shambles. She followed behind the casket, with Mia sobbing hysterically, wondering how her grandmother could stay perfectly put together at a time like this. Behind her was a shout of 'King Joseph, may he rest in peace.' In truth, he had been a king for about a week. But this was unruly. She didn't want to hear his name, and she didn't want to think about him anymore. She had done her grieving when he had first forgotten her name.

But still, this was different. Now he was really gone. There was no more 'pretending'. No more hoping he'll remember her. No more watching him sleep at the nursing home. Now he was dead.

Step by step she walked, trying to keep up with her husband rolling away. As if if she caught him, he would come back to her. Mia held her grandmother back, placing a warm hand on her arm and then taking her hand.

_Joe walked slowly behind the widowed queen. She had no one to stand next to her now, no one to hold her hand. By herself she looked lonely, afraid, depressed. The black veil covering her beautiful tear-stained face was blowing slightly in the wind. There was a storm brewing. He could feel it. For a split second she turned around, locking her eyes with his, begging for him to come to her. He walked to her and held her hand, and they looked straight forward at the moving casket. With someone by her side, anyone by her side, she would be all right. She never needed someone to protect her, just someone to love._

She only wished Joe was there now. Mia held her hand all the way down main street, to the cemetery upon the hill. Never once did a tear fall down her ivory cheeks. She held it in as the casket was perched above the grave, and everyone said their final good-byes. She held it in as she walked to the casket and kissed it gently, before watching it lower six feet into the ground. She held it in the whole way home, staring out the window, even as Mia and Charlotte continued to cry. Even Shades, who was holding Charlotte in his arms, shed a tear or two, but Clarisse held it in.

When the double doors of the palace opened for her, she walked solemnly inside. As Charlotte ushered her to her room, she could feel the trembles course through her body. The doors to her suite opened, and she burst into sobs of magnificent quality. At this point, she didn't mind if Charlotte saw her crying, it was actually comforting to have someone there who had witnessed her at her lowest point.

"Char . . . lotte . . . I . . . can't . . . I . . . " She sputtered, throwing a vase across the room to vent her anger. Charlotte jumped at the sound of breaking glass, but pulled her employer into a hug.

"I know. I know. Shh." She was violent, even as Charlotte rubbed her back soothingly. Her arms flew in the air as she pushed her aide aside. The carpet failed to cushion her fall as she thudded to the ground.

"He's gone." She sobbed into the floor, a puddle forming. "Oh god . . . Charlotte. I loved him. I loved him so much. I did. I really did." Each sentence ended with a loud gasp. "Did I deserve this?" Charlotte dropped to her knees next to Clarisse, tears in her own eyes. "This . . . This torture?"

"No one does, Clarisse. No one does."

- - -

She awoke in what seemed like total darkness. In reality she was still on the floor, and the darkness was her veil crowding her face. She knew she had cried herself to sleep.

Clarisse had once seen a movie where the woman had been heartbroken. When she awoke, the woman immediately started crying. Clarisse hadn't thought it possible until now, when as soon as she had taken a breath she let out a sob and a fresh batch of tears. Within moments she pulled herself off the floor, stiff from the position she had managed to pass out it. She didn't bother wiping her eyes as she walked over to picture on her desk. The only man she ever loved stared up at her, from a picture Andrew had so graciously taken for them on their wedding day.

"_Clarisse," Joe whispered in her ear. "What do you say we get some wedding photos?"_

"_All right." She whispered back, kissing his cheek. "Andrew?" She called to him as he walked by. "Would you mind getting your camera and snapping a few shots of us?"_

"_Of course!" Andrew bubbled, ignoring the disapproving look from his mother. "I'll meet you in the garden?" Clarisse nodded, tightening her grip on her husband's hand._

_The garden was in full bloom, Charlotte had made sure of that. The archway that was so elegantly decorated with pink roses proved a perfect photo spot. They took eight pictures, and thought that it would be enough, until Joe pulled her back, making a suggesting that made her blush._

"_Joseph!"_

"_What? We just kissed in front of all those people! Why not get a picture for ourselves?"_

"_Oh . . . I guess you are right. Andrew, do you mind?"_

"_No not at all." Joe pulled her in for a blinding kiss. They were so wrapped up in each-other that they didn't notice Andrew bow out to go find Lady Elisa._

She reached into the drawer of the desk, pulling out a picture. She traced around it with her finger, quietly whispering to herself.

"I miss you."

Clarisse held the picture frame in her arms. Hugging it, clutching to it for dear life. "I love you." She climbed into bed, not bothering changing from her widow's outfit, and held the picture frame, falling asleep with Joseph in her arms once again.

END

A/N: Thank you to the REVIEWERS, Any readers who don't review, everyone who has given me advice along the way! THANK YOU. Thank YOU. THANK you! I'm happy to be done, but sad that it's over. I'm so glad you liked it, and I look forward to posting my oneshots once again.

XOXOX

Sam


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